


Lost and Found

by MiladyDragon



Series: Dragon-Verse: Future Adventures [12]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Forever (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Torchwood
Genre: Alien Culture, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Dragons, F/M, Future Fic, Implied/Referenced Torture, Language, M/M, MPreg (mentioned), Magic, Mentions of MCU, Reincarnation, Taken By The Rift, Time Travel, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-07-19 01:01:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 52,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7338229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiladyDragon/pseuds/MiladyDragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Fucking Rift," Rhys managed to mutter, realising immediately what must have happened.</p><p>Living in Cardiff was like playing Russian Roulette: no one was safe, but the Rift more often than not dropped off instead of picked up and it was just luck of the draw when those negative spikes appeared and snatched a person away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written last year for NaNo, and I'm just getting around to posting. I'll be updating this once a week, as I'm working on other things (the store based on "Reset", actually). This takes place in the Future-Verse after the events of "Time Trap".

 

**_Unknown Time and Place_ **

****

The sky was strange.

Rhys Williams tried to sit up, but flopped back down onto the ground, his body feeling like it had been twisted and pulled in about fifteen different directions at once.  He groaned, not liking this one bit, but there wasn’t a thing he could do about it.  He was in too much pain to move, and all he could do was keep staring upward into a sky that really wasn’t his own.

His mind was shaking off the fog, and it poked Rhys with the knowledge that he wasn’t in Cardiff anymore.  Where he was, he couldn’t say, but the indigo coloured sky and the three moons were a dead giveaway that he’d somehow ended up nowhere on Earth anymore.

Rhys would go into shock later.  Now, he found himself too tired to care.

“Fucking Rift,” he managed to mutter, realising immediately what must have happened.

He let himself dwell on what he could recall.  He’d been getting the team lunch; it had been a slow couple of days, what with Jack and Ianto doing a bit more recruiting and Owen and Diane off on vacation. He’d caught up on his paperwork and had done the supply order, had done a quick surf of some of the major auction sites looking for alien tech and had admitted to himself that he’d been bored off his arse.  It had seemed like a good idea to volunteer to go out and pick up food for the ravening hoards left in the Hub.

He’d been on his way back from the sandwich shop just off the Plass when…

Yeah.  Fucking Rift.

Living in Cardiff was like playing Russian Roulette: no one was safe, but the Rift more often than not dropped off instead of picked up and it was just luck of the draw when those negative spikes appeared and snatched a person away. 

Luck of the draw…right.

It bore thinking once more…Fucking Rift.

Another problem with Torchwood: after a while of close calls and alien invasions, a body somehow thought it was just as immortal as their Director and Second, that the Rift wouldn’t touch them.  Well, Rhys had just apparently proved that wrong, because one minute he was on Bute Road at noon; the next, he was lying on his back staring up at three moons – one mauve, one red, and the last green, he registered – with no clue as to where the hell he was.

At least he hadn’t ended up like those poor sods on Flat Holm.

Thank God for small favours.

Rhys knew he’d freak out later, and then most likely have a good bloody rant over whatever planet the Rift had deigned to dump him on.  But now, he needed a plan.  He couldn’t keep just lying there, waiting for something else to happen.

The pain was fading, now more like pins and needles twitching his nerves than from mistreated muscle and bone.  Rhys got his elbows under him and pushed himself up, grunting a little as he regained the equilibrium he hadn’t known he’d lost.  The world around him tossed and turned, and Rhys felt a little seasick.

He blinked rapidly, and things settled back into focus.  Rhys took a look at his surroundings, and he sighed as the whole being on another planet thing was once again confirmed.

Rhys was in a field of some sort, surrounded by what he recognised as some sort of tall grass even though it was a weird, yellowish-green colour, almost the same shade as the puke Gracie had once got all over his favourite football jersey.  Luckily for him, Alice had known the secret of getting that sort of thing out of fabric.

But his football jersey was back on Earth.  He doubted he’d ever see it again.

This also meant he would never see any of the team again, his friends…his _family_.  He’d have gladly given up any number of jerseys if it meant he could get back home, to hang out with the people who had become so close to him.  Hell, he even wouldn’t have minded seeing Gwen again, and that was saying something.

Sighing once more, Rhys slowly got to his feet, turning slowly to scan around him.  First thing he needed to do was scout around, and hopefully a plan would come to him, because at that point he really had no freaking clue.

It was pretty warm, for which Rhys was grateful.  He’d left the Hub without his jacket, it having been a nice day in Cardiff, and he was only wearing a short-sleeved polo shirt and jeans.  He didn’t even have his gun, since he’d kept it in his desk drawer and hadn’t seen the need to carry it with him on what was supposed to have been a simple lunch run.

The field stretched away, making him wonder if the weird grass wasn’t grass at all, but maybe some sort of grain or wheat or crop whatever since it looked like it had been planted in uniform rows.  Rhys also noticed that there was a fourth moon: this one was pale white, and settled so close to the horizon that he hadn’t seen it from his original prone position. 

Farther off, there was a line that Rhys thought were trees, but he couldn’t see them very well because of the darkness.  Even with four moons the trees were too far off to get any details, only that they were tall and bushy at the tops. 

He knew he could wait for daylight to make out anything else, but it was the faint glow ahead of him that was far too tantalising to leave until then.

Rhys guessed it had to be some sort of farmhouse or something.  It made the most sense, since this was obviously a farm he was standing on, with the grain-grass.  Someone would have had to have been growing this crop, and he was willing to bet it was whoever was living where that light was showing.

But he was torn.  How would the natives react to him?  Were they even vaguely human-ish?  Would they be able to accept his story of being a refugee from another planet, God knew how far away?  Would they be willing to help him?

Rhys wondered vaguely if there was still a Torchwood out there in the galaxy.  He was fairly certain that Jack and Ianto would still be around, but he had no idea how to even get in touch with them…and then it came to him: what if he’d gone into the past, instead of the future?  There would be no Jack and Ianto out there then.

He was trapped.  Friendless, without any sort of supplies, on a world that Rhys didn’t even know. 

The tingling had pretty much left, but there was a pain in his chest that just wouldn’t go away.  He really had lost everyone and everything that he was familiar with. 

“Damnit,” he muttered.  “Get a grip on yourself, Williams.  It’s not entirely hopeless.”

There was only one thing he could do, and that was to head toward the possible farmhouse.  He would have to take a chance that whoever was there would be willing to at least give him a roof over his head and something to eat.  Maybe they could also help him find out if there was someone out in the universe who Rhys would know.

Rhys began walking.  It felt…odd, and it took him a few minutes to realise that the gravity on this planet was a bit lighter than what he was used to.  The air was a bit thinner as well. There was a slight tang in the air as he breathed deeply, trying to get enough of it into his lungs as he made his way across the field.  It was almost like Cardiff after a rain, but just a bit stronger.  It wasn’t unpleasant, just something he wasn’t used to.  He really hoped he wouldn’t have to get used to it, that he’d find some way off this world.  Of course, there was always the chance that he’d be stuck there for the rest of his life. 

Not a very pleasant thought.

Still, he wasn’t about to let being scooped up by the Rift and dumped on an alien world get to him.  Hell, if he was anywhere near Hart’s time, maybe he could somehow find a working Vortex Manipulator around and get back to his own home planet and time.  Of course, if he was in the past that wasn’t an option unless he could find a space-faring race that wouldn’t mind giving him a lift.

And there he was, without his towel.  At least he could still joke about it.

There was a slight breeze, and it made the grass rustle much like the rattles of a disturbed rattlesnake.  Not that Rhys had actually ever heard one; but he had watched nature documentaries before, so it was a noise he would recognise.  It was creepy in a way, that and the lack of insect noises.  Rhys frowned at that, because would there be plants like this crop if there weren’t bugs to fertilise things?  There’d been that thing about the vanishing bees back on Earth, and hadn’t Owen made some sort of big deal about that at the time? 

This was an alien world though.  Who knew just how things worked there?

Rhys stopped for a moment, overcome by the notion that this wasn’t an alien planet…he was the alien there, dropped into that field by a capricious Rift.  He wouldn’t be like anyone else there. 

It was time for his freak-out now.

The trembling started in his arms, and travelled quickly into his chest and down his legs, making his knees feel like jelly.  It was all he could do not to collapse back onto the ground as it really did hit him.  He was alone.  He was the alien there, not the natives.  He was really never getting home again…

What would the team do, when they realised that he’d been taken by the Rift?  Would they try to look for him?  Rhys knew enough about the Rift Manipulator that there was no way they would be able to pinpoint where or when he was.  Yes, Toshiko was good…but not that good.  She had formulas and programs and shit that allowed her to predict Rift activity, and while she was right ninety-five percent of the time she hadn’t been able to predict the negative spike that had grabbed him off Bute Street in broad daylight.  How long would it take for them to figure out he was gone?  Possibly for good?

What would they do to mourn him?  Because Rhys knew without a doubt that they would.  He coughed out a laugh that sounded more than a little hysterical as the image of his funeral danced about in his head.  What would Jack and Ianto tell his folks?  Would they give them the truth?  It wasn’t like his Mam and Tad didn’t have a magical background, even if it had been his Gran who had been the witch in the family. 

He had to wonder if this was how his great-grandfather had felt when Torchwood had snatched him up so he could save the world.  Had Tommy Brockless felt helpless?  Alone?  How had he coped with what had occurred? At least he’d had some hope of getting back to his own time eventually. 

Rhys couldn’t claim that.

He had no idea how long he stood there, lost in his own misery.  Finally, he started forward once more, pulling himself back together by the proverbial boot laces.  He had to trust that whoever was in that house before him would somehow help.  That they would understand that he was lost and on his own and that he didn’t mean any harm.  That mercy was something that everyone shared.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, Rhys made his way through the waving grass, his eyes firmly on the prize…the house up ahead, with the lights glowing from what he could now see were windows.  He couldn’t tell much else about the house, only that it was a single storey.  The rest was still obscured by the night, but he hoped he’d be able to see more as he got closer.

The tiny white moon sank below the horizon, being quickly chased by the blue one.  The green one made its own way across the blue-purple sky, the largest, mauve moon hovering almost directly overhead.  If Rhys squinted, he could make out stronger lights on that moon’s surface, and he had to wonder if they were some sort of moonbases.  That would have been cool, if this planet was advanced enough to have set up colonies on at least one of their moons.  According to the news reports he’d read Rhys knew that such a thing was going on on Earth’s own moon, that there had been a race to get things set up even before SHIELD had been pulled down by HYDRA.  Rhys knew for a fact that SHIELD had been on the cutting edge of that push, but it had been taken over by NASA and the British Rocket Group out of fear that HYDRA would set up base over their heads and wave weapons at the collective countries on the planet.  It wasn’t a risk that anyone was willing to take.

He also knew that Jack had been approached about it by Her Majesty, and it had led to an agreement that there would eventually be a Torchwood base built there.  Rhys had wondered if it was going to happen within his lifetime.

Well, he supposed he’d be able to find out now, wouldn’t he?  If he was in the bloody future, of course.  If he was stuck in the past, he was pretty well screwed.

Oh hell, he was screwed either way.

Rhys had no idea how long it took him to reach the farmhouse; he’d tried to check his watch, but the crystal had been broken at some point in his journey to this planet.  He kept walking until he broke through the edge of the crop line then he stopped, his eyes searching for any sort of clue that would tell him if these people were hostile or peaceful.

Being in Torchwood meant he’d met both kinds.  Rhys did quite like Thor a lot that one time he’d met the Asgardian, but he knew he couldn’t count on the natives being that friendly and jovial at his ‘visit’. He had no idea what his reception might be, but he had to take that chance.  He couldn’t stand around outside and wait for the sun to come up.

Or maybe it was plural.  After all, there were four moons.  Rhys certainly wouldn’t put it past this planet to have more than one star.

Only he didn’t get the chance to knock on the door.

Light suddenly flooded the area, blinding Rhys after having spent so much time in what passed for the night time darkness on this planet.  He barely had time to blink away the spots in front of his eyes before a person was barrelling out of the house, what looked like a gun in its hands.

Rhys barely got a glimpse of something tall and thin, before the gun was being snapped in his direction.  He just managed to get his hands up in what Jack had once claimed was the universal sign of surrender when the gun flashed.

 _Shit,_ was the last thought Rhys had.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

_**Unknown Time and Place** _

 

__

Rhys woke up, and it was a surprise to him.

He’d really thought he’d been killed.  There had been a gun, and it had gone off…but no, apparently he wasn’t dead.  Not that he thought he’d somehow gained Jack’s immortality shtick, but the native obviously hadn’t shot to kill. 

He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, to be honest.

He opened his eyes and then quickly screwed them shut again.  It was too bright, and his head was pounding fit to burst which was another sign that he was still among the living.  He couldn’t help but groan, lifting his hands to rub at his temples, trying to dispel the pain enough for him to function.

Eventually, he felt ready to try to open his eyes again, and he did.  The pain wasn’t so bad now, even if the place he found himself in was just as bright as before.  Above him was a flat white ceiling, made of some sort of tiles shaped in hexagons.  Rhys risked turning his head, and the walls he could see were made of the same material.

Groaning again, he sat himself up.  The room he was in was about ten by ten, every inch of the walls, ceiling, and floor was of the same tiles.  Light was filtering down from the ceiling, but Rhys couldn’t tell where the light fixtures were.

He was lying on a hard cot, the off-white fabric rough against his palms.  The frame was of some sort of metal, the fabric looped around both ends to make a sort of stiff hammock shape.  It dipped a little as Rhys tried to get to his feet, but he was able to eventually stand.

His shoes were gone.

The tiles were chilly against his bare feet. 

Rhys quickly checked himself.  He still wore his shirt and jeans, but his boots, socks, and belt were all missing.  As was his wallet and phone, neither which would have done him much good anyway.  The air was still and cold, and he shivered slightly, fighting the urge to rub his hands over his arms in order to warm himself. 

He had the distinct impression that he was being watched, which wasn’t at all pleasant.

“Oi!” he called out, wanting to get his captor’s attention.  “Why don’t you come in here and talk to me?  I don’t mean any harm!”

Silence.

Being around Jack Harkness for the last several years meant that Rhys had seen first-hand some interrogation techniques that seemed guaranteed to get any and all information out of a person, and he just knew this was one of those.  The silence, the white walls, having his shoes taken away…it was all put together to make him uncomfortable. 

It was working, actually.

He was trying really hard not to be too concerned yet.  After all, it was Torchwood protocol that had the team segregating any alien refugees that showed up in Cardiff until they could prove they weren’t out to take over the world.  They’d had a series of safehouses throughout the city – and many more in London – where they could take care of anyone who came through the Rift or had crashed on Earth.  Once they were cleared, then they were settled somewhere, Torchwood helping with integration.  Unless of course that wasn’t possible, then they had a permanent home on Flat Holm.

It was obvious that that was what was happening now, that he was being held until he proved not to be dangerous.  Of course they couldn’t just let a stranger roam around, although Rhys didn’t quite like the fact that he’d been shot…even though there didn’t appear to be any visible signs that he’d been wounded.  Stun gun, then.

He had to prove to whoever was holding him prisoner that he didn’t mean any harm.  If he could find out where and when he was…of course, then he thought that it wouldn’t make a lot of difference, seeing as any sort of date would be in native terms and not in something he could understand.

And then the one thing that hadn’t occurred to him, did…what if they didn’t even speak the same language?

Could this possibly get any worse?

Shit, he shouldn’t have thought that.  He probably just jinxed himself.

“This is just a bit boring,” he said toward whatever cameras or microphones that had to be in the cell.  “Will someone put me out of my misery and tell me where I am?” Okay, maybe that wasn’t quite the best way to put it…

Still no response.

Rhys snorted, flinging himself back onto the hammock…and nearly dumping himself over as the so-called bed tried to tip him off.  Cursing, he got it back upright and then took a seat once more.

Maybe if he slept for a bit, that would make time pass quicker…

He didn’t get the chance, however.

Just as he’d arranged himself into a comfortable position, the door – which had been hidden amongst the tiles and had been invisible – slid open to reveal what had to have been one of the natives on this planet.  It was over seven feet tall, almost skeletal thin, with long arms and legs and a neck that had to have made up almost a quarter of its body.  The head was hairless and almost perfectly round; only its face was flat, with large dark oval eyes, vestigial nose, and lipless mouth.  It was dressed in tan coloured garments: a flowing tunic, trousers, and soft shoes.

“It’s about time,” Rhys said acerbically.  “You know you can take me to your leader at any time.”

The round head cocked toward him, and the being spoke…and of course, Rhys didn’t understand a word of it.

Bugger that.

“Don’t you have some sort of translator or something?” he asked, remembering Toshiko’s fancy translation program that seemed to take up so much of her time and had helped them on numerous occasions with races that had showed up, either by accident or design.  Certainly any sort of advanced culture had to have something like that, right?

The being cocked his head toward Rhys, and said something else.

“I’m sorry, mate, but I don’t understand a thing you’re saying.”  This first contact was going to be really hard to deal with if they couldn’t communicate.  Of course, it wouldn’t be the first time that Rhys had met a race he couldn’t speak to, but Toshiko, being the amazing technician that she was, could usually get the translator up and running with a little help from whatever species had shown up. 

His captor didn’t look happy, or at least that was how Rhys interpreted the expression he was seeing.  It said something else, but he could tell it wasn’t aimed at him; maybe some sort of comm unit?  That would make sense.

Rhys didn’t move from his seat on the would-be bed, not wanting to appear uncooperative.  The sooner they could get someone in there to interpret, the sooner he could ask for help from these beings.  If they could at least tell him where he was, Rhys would feel much better.  Right now, he had no clue, and it was making his brain itch with worry.

It didn’t take long for Rhys to figure out what was happening, and when he did his skin began to crawl and he found it really hard to breathe.

Two others entered the room, one carrying a metal chair and the other pushing a cart that had a very familiar piece of equipment on it.

It was just Rhys’ luck that he’d discovered just what planet had invented the mind probe…

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

**_10 June 5119 (Earth Standard Date)_ **

**_Gliese 581g (Hubworld)_ **

 

****

Jack Harkness and Ianto Jones strode side by side through the large foyer of Torchwood Tower, getting stares as they made their way toward the lifts at the back of the lobby.  The majority of the workers wouldn’t know who they were; however, there were a couple of double-takes and then nods of acknowledgement as they passed.

Ianto ignored them as he and his mate walked past the reception desk; the woman there was one of the very few that recognised them, and her quiet welcome of, “Director Harkness; Second Jones,” floated toward them as they headed by.  Jack nodded toward her, giving her one of his famous grins, and Ianto barely caught the blush that decorated her pale green features.

Jack could still turn the heads of just about anyone; there was no denying it.  Not that Ianto wanted to, because it was just as much a part of Jack Harkness as breathing.  He could appreciate that about his mate, especially because he knew that particular expression was a side of the public Director Harkness; something quite different was reserved for Ianto and their family, and was all Jack.

They got into the special lift that went all the way up to the Director level of the tower, Jack using his still active passcodes to activate it and send them all the way up to the top.  As the lift ascended, it gave him time to consider what had brought them to the tower in the first place. 

It had been a call from the current Director of the Institute, Phillip Coulson, requesting their presence as soon as they could get there.  He wouldn’t say anything else over an open line, despite Ianto’s own security measures on the communications channels going and leaving Ddraig Llyn.  It would have been slightly insulting if it hadn’t sounded so urgent. 

Luckily, they still had their personal transmat.  It had gotten them to Hubworld almost instantaneously, and both he and Jack hadn’t hesitated in making their way to the tower to discover what had seemingly shaken the usually unperturbable Phillip Coulson.

Because Phillip _had_ been shaken.  There had been no hiding it.  And so they’d gotten there as quickly as they could. 

The lift door opened onto the Director’s floor, a vast space that held not only the Torchwood Director’s office but the offices of all the heads of the Institute itself.  Ianto had once had an office on this level, even though he’d spent most of his time down the Archives, also known as the Dragon’s Hoard, deep within the bedrock of the planet itself.  Also on this level were spaces for the other Heads of the Institute, such as Security, Investigations, Information, Communication, and such.

The Director’s office itself was at the end of the corridor made up of a line of cubicles, each with a busily working employee of various races.  Outside the office was the receptionist’s desk, which was currently empty.  The door to the inner office was open, so Ianto and Jack invited themselves inside.

The Director’s office had changed much over the nearly two thousand years since Jack had inhabited it.  It still had the large picture window that had such a wonderful view of Gliese City and the mountains beyond and was letting in the red light of the planet’s primary, but the furnishings had been replaced at least a hundred times.  There was still a desk in front of that massive window, but gone were the faintly medieval touches that Arthur had brought into the space, replaced by antiques dating back to the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, including hermetically sealed artwork and knick-knacks that were sprinkled along the various shelves and tables.  Ianto had once teased Phillip when he’d first moved in about how his former Shieldsman Second, Steven Rogers VII, had felt knowing that his boss had been such a fan of his ancestor. 

Also, taking up an area along the one wall that wasn’t shelves, was a holographic table, its surface already activated but nothing up and running yet.  Phillip was leaning against it, his arms crossed over his chest and slightly wrinkling his black tunic, a barely there smile on his face belying the serious expression in his eyes.

“Jack,” he greeted, “Ianto.  Thank you for coming so quickly.”

“You made it sound urgent,” Jack answered, crossing his own arms over his chest as well. 

“It is,” Phillip replied.  He uncrossed his arms, resting his hands on the edge of the table.  “We received some information from a source on Indira, in the Prasix Cluster.”

“I’ve heard of it,” Ianto said.  “There are three inhabited worlds there, correct?”

“There are,” Phillip confirmed.  “Indira, Halistra, and Andrala. Indira and Halistra are perfectly peaceful, but the Andralan are about as paranoid as they come.  They’re constantly trying to pick fights with their sister worlds, which Indira and Halistra pretty much ignore.  But…” He turned to the holotable, waving his hand over its surface.  Information flashed across the display that expanded above the surface.  “According to our source on Indira, things on Andrala are getting worse, and it all comes down to this.”

On the holographic display, alien writing appeared.  It wavered for a moment, resolving into Galactic Standard.  “Basically, it’s a report of the Andralan Security Forces holding a spy that they are accusing the Indirians of sending.  It’s not true of course; the Indirians could really care less and are perfectly able to protect themselves from any Andralan threats.  And, while they won’t confirm or deny that they have their agents on Andrala, I doubt they’d be unable to speak the local language, like this man is.”

Jack frowned.  “What sort of sense does it make to send a spy who doesn’t speak Andralan?”

“Exactly.”

Ianto shook his head.  “So who is this person they’re holding?  I’m assuming that’s why we’re here.”  He was confused.  Why would some poor soul being held a prisoner on Andrala be something that he and Jack would be called in for?  If it was someone Torchwood, Phillip would have sent someone in already.  And if it wasn’t, there were political ways to secure a captive’s release.

Phillip made another motion over the table, and a window opened on a video that someone must have taken.  It was of a cell, made up of white tiles.  In a chair in the middle of the frame was a man, his head down so Ianto couldn’t make out his features.  He was wearing what looked like anachronous clothing, and he had dark hair and was just a bit stocky. 

The video ran backward until it got to the beginning.

Ianto then got his first good look at the captive in the white room, and it only took him moments to identify him.  He felt the blood drain from his face.

“You know him?” Jack asked quietly. 

“You do, as well,” the dragon answered.  “But you might not recall.  It’s been nearly three thousand years since you last saw him.”

Humans weren’t meant to be immortal, not like dragons.  The human memory could only hold so much, and Jack had forgotten much of their time with the original Torchwood.  It wasn’t his fault; he had to let time pass and that meant some of his memories would pass as well.  That was one of the many reasons Ianto was so precious to his mate; he could recall much of his life, and Jack would often ask him questions about things he’d forgotten.

That wasn’t to say that Jack didn’t remember everything; there was much of his life that he could recall.  But much of it had gotten pushed aside, and it was often up to Ianto to prod him about stuff.

Phillip was nodding.  “I didn’t know him either, but then I didn’t really remember Clint all that clearly, and he turned out to be my mate.”

Jack concentrated on the video, as the Andralan strapped the man down into a metal chair, listening as the prisoner kept fighting it, calling the being every name in the book.  Another Andralan wheeled in a table, on which was a mind probe.

“He’s speaking old Earth English with a Welsh accent,” Phillip went on.  “That was my clue that we were dealing with a spacio-temporal event.  I ran his image through the Torchwood database and Archives and came up with this.”

Another hand movement brought up a file.

Ianto knew that was when Jack understood what he was seeing.  “Rhys Williams?” he gasped.

“Yes,” Phillip confirmed.  “He was taken by the old Cardiff Rift back in 2016.  You never did find out where he’d gone, and he was never brought back.”

“How did I forget Rhys?” Jack whispered.

Ianto put a comforting hand on his mate’s arm.  “It’s not your fault, Jack.  It’s been a very long time.”

“Yes, but I always try to remember my old teams,” Jack grimaced.  “I even have pictures of them all!  How could I have forgotten Rhys, of all people?”

Ianto could tell just how badly Jack was feeling about it.  Yes, he was right…they did have old photos and videos of all their old teams, but it wasn’t like they looked at them all the time. 

However, Jack always felt badly about forgetting things.  There wasn’t anything Ianto could do about it but be there when his mate recalled something from those long ago times and to try to make the guilt a little easier to bear.

“The Andralan are convinced that Rhys is a spy,” Phillip said.  “Even though they put him through the mind probe and got nothing.  They weren’t even trying to translate what he was telling them.”  He made a gesture and the video stopped. 

Ianto was grateful for that.  He, of course, remembered Rhys quite well.  He’d been a member of his family back then, and they’d all mourned him when they’d come to the conclusion that the Rift had taken him.  While that day wasn’t as sharp as it had been, Ianto could still see the team finding the bags of sandwiches that Rhys had dropped when he’d been sucked into the Rift.  Toshiko had tried her hardest to find out where he’d been taken, but she’d been unable to track the Rift.  They’d eventually had to give up and mourn their friend.

“What are we doing to get him out?” Jack demanded.  Now that the memories were returning to him, he was ready to do whatever it took to get Rhys back.

“I’ve requested an agent go in and see if he could be rescued,” Phillip replied.  “I know going through diplomatic channels isn’t going to work with the Andralan simply because they won’t believe a thing we say.  We’re going to have to go in and fetch him.”

“You’re right,” Ianto conceded.  “The Andralan won’t believe Rhys is there by a twist of a space/time Rift.  They’re just too bloody paranoid.”

“Who are you sending in?” Jack asked.

Humour flickered in Phillip’s pale eyes, highlighting the blue of the magic that danced there.  “Sabrina is in the area, as is Cadi.  I’ve contacted them both and Cadi is more than willing to smuggle Sabrina in, and both her and Rhys out again.”

Ianto shook his head.  Cadi would have been what most people considered the black sheep of the Harkness-Jones family; she barely skirted the law in her chosen profession, plus she was the on-again, off-again lover of John Hart.  At least she hadn’t declared the ex-Time Agent as her mate.  Ianto could be grateful for that, because the last thing he wanted to do was kill the man and make his daughter unhappy.

However, Cadi was also fiercely loyal to her family, and would do anything to help if asked.  They could trust her to do what needed to be done, even if it broke the laws of several planets.

Ianto had, in fact, lost track of how many worlds Cadi was wanted on.

As for Sabrina…

Jack was nodding.  “Brina makes sense.  She’s the best operative we have.  If anyone could get Rhys out, it would be her.”

Sabrina was their ninth born, and an excellent Torchwood agent.  Jack had carried her, which meant that she’d only gained her dragon form after she’d found her mate, but the pair hardly ever saw each other.  Belen Swann was also an agent, undercover for months at a time, and Ianto had wondered how they were able to balance their relationship against their duty.  In a way it reminded Ianto of him and Jack, back in the days when Torchwood was more important than anything, however Belen wasn’t immortal like Jack had been.  Yes, a dragon’s mate gained a longer than average lifespan, but that wasn’t going to guarantee Sabrina and her mate time to gain their own family. 

It was a dilemma that no one had come up with an answer for yet, and there were only so many immortals out there in the universe.  As far as Ianto was aware, Jack, Phillip, Merlin, and Rowena’s mate, Henry, were the only ones.  Anwyn’s mate, Gwaine, would reincarnate and always came back to her, but that had yet to happen for any of their other children.

“Will Cadi be bringing Rhys here?” Jack asked.

Phillip shook his head.  “No, she’ll take Sabrina and Rhys as far was Madrina, where Rhys will get a ride back here with Morgan, and Sabrina will move on to her next assignment.  Morgan’s currently on tour there, and Nathan is with her.”

Ianto couldn’t help but snort.  This was swiftly becoming a family rescue; Morgan, Sabrina’s older sister, was known throughout the Human Empire as a singing star, one that her parents were very proud of, even if Ianto wasn’t quite into the style of music Morgan sang.  Having her bring Rhys back to Hubworld made sense; after all, who would believe that a celebrity would be harbouring a fugitive from Andralan justice?

And Nathan was one of the twins that their eldest son Clint – born Franklin, however that was before the ‘reincarnated from a former teammate’ thing – working as a techie for Morgan’s band, Starshine.  It had been a temporary thing at first, but Nathan was too much like his father had been before he’d settled down with his mate, Phillip, and the young man had inherited that same wanderlust.  What better way to serve it than to go on tour with his aunt?

“We’ll need to check Rhys out medically,” Phillip went on.  “They put him in a mind probe on top of him getting spat out on an unknown planet by a rift in space and time.  I don’t want to think he’s been permanently damaged…”

As his voice faded out, Ianto couldn’t help a shudder.  Every once in a while, the Rift still deposited people around the area of Old Cardiff, which was why Torchwood had a base set up there to continue to monitor things.  It had been over a thousand years since the water had receded enough to expose what had once been inundated when global warming had swallowed the original Cardiff…which was a good thing, since it meant any innocent that came through would no longer drown.  

Although, if Ianto was honest with himself, he did wonder if that might not have been a mercy for some of the Rift victims.

The island of Flat Holm no longer existed, but Torchwood had set up a new residence for the permanently damaged beings who’d been sucked up by any number of Rifts that they’d discovered since Torchwood had expanded into the Human Empire.  There were at least a thousand Rifts scattered out there, and it was their duty to monitor each and every one of them.  This meant taking care of those who had been touched by that sort of disruptive power.

“From the way he sounded,” Jack said, obviously amused, “I doubt we have to worry too much about that.”

Phillip smirked.  “I’m going to ask him to teach me some of the swears he used in Welsh.  He certainly can be creative.”

Ianto couldn’t help but chuckle.  “That’s our Rhys the Rant,” he commented, recalling their former team member’s nickname. 

“You didn’t hear it all,” Phillip added, “but he pretty much told them everything, even if they couldn’t understand a thing he said.”

“I believe I taught our teammates that,” Jack said.  “It doesn’t do anyone any good to fight a mind probe.  It’s gonna get it out of you no matter how hard you fight, and it doesn’t do any good to you if you’re injured in the process.”

“How long will it be before Sabrina and Cadi arrive on scene?” Ianto asked.

Phillip checked his wrist chronometer.  “I should think any time now…”

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

**_Unknown Time_ **

**_Rhys Williams’ personal version of Hell_ **

****

Every part of his body ached.

This was not, in fact, new; ever since he’d been dumped by the bloody Rift Rhys hadn’t felt quite right.  However, this was different, and he groaned as he thought about all those poor bastards who’d been subjected to the mind probe before.

Then he realised who he was feeling sorry for, and stopped.

It had become standard procedure in the UK to have anyone wanting a sensitive position – be it with Torchwood, the government, SHIELD, or any number of high security offices – submit to the alien lie detector that Torchwood had had for ages.  They’d learned a lesson with the fall of SHIELD, that anyone could claim to be on the side of the angels and it be a bald-faced lie.  Use of the detector had started when Great Britain had opened its borders to friends, family, and agents of SHIELD; they’d needed to keep HYDRA out while helping those who really needed it.  Yes, they’d gotten quite a few former SHIELD agents coming to work for Torchwood – and some went back to work for Director Coulson – but for every five innocents there had been at least one HYDRA agent trying to infiltrate some agency or another.  Ninety-nine percent of HYDRA agents had been caught by using just the lie detector; but there had still been that one percent whose questioning had come out inconclusive.

Those were the ones who got to meet the mind probe.  And of that one percent, Rhys thought there had only been one person who’s turned out to just be that good at defeating lie detectors, and he’d had no hard feelings about having been questioned that way if it had meant he was cleared to move on with his family.

Still, he’d taken the advice Jack had once given them all and hadn’t fought the questioning.  He’d let out all of his secrets, but he wasn’t at all sure these beings even understood a thing he’d said.  Maybe they’d thought he was faking being a foreigner, which Rhys supposed made sense, but certainly his performance under what could have only been construed as torture would convince them he wasn’t out to hurt anyone.  That he was an innocent victim of a capricious space/time Rift that didn’t fucking care where it dropped a person.

Rhys had no idea how long he lay there, wallowing in his own misery.  He would have given his left arm for a pint, and his right arm for fish and chips, he was that hungry and thirsty.  He wondered if this time and place even had such things.  Well, he certainly hoped so, because any time that didn’t have either he considered barbaric and a particularly terrible form of purgatory.

He continued to lie on his hammock even when he heard the door open.  Not looking over, he muttered, “I hope this means it’s dinnertime, ‘cause I’m bloody starving,” knowing he wouldn’t be understood anyway.

“If you can wait until we get to our ride off this planet,” came a soft reply, “then I can guarantee it.”

Rhys sat up so suddenly he got dizzy, but that didn’t stop him from turning toward the voice.  One of the natives stood there, looking very much like any other one he’d seen so far.  “You can understand me?” he exclaimed, slinging his legs over the side of the hammock and almost dumping himself onto the floor.

The being put a finger to its lips then took something from a pocket in its trousers.  It pointed it toward where Rhys knew the surveillance cameras were; there was a red light at its tip and it hummed, and the camera visibly shorted out.

Okay, he was either being rescued or Rhys had been drugged or something.  He was really hoping for rescue.

The native reached up toward its neck, touching something there.  Instantly, the being’s shape began to waver, and it vanished, revealing a human-looking girl dressed neck to foot in some sort of black, tight-fitting catsuit.  She had short brown hair and blue eyes, a cleft in her chin, and she was smiling brightly.  “Of course I have,” she answered.  “You didn’t think we’d leave you here once we knew about you, did you?”

“And who’s ‘we’?” Rhys wanted to know.

The smile curved into a smirk as her eyes _changed_.

Rhys felt his mouth fall open as he found himself staring at a pair of slitted blue eyes.

_Dragon eyes_.

“Bloody hell,” he gasped as he tried to put it together.

“We need to get going,” the woman said, her eyes transforming back.  “It won’t take them too long to notice I’ve destroyed the cameras in here.”  She stepped forward, taking his hand in hers and pulling him to his feet with a strength only a dragon could have.  “Here, take this.”  She handed him a round disc the size of a pound coin.  “This will disguise you as a native long enough to get us both out of here.”

He had so many questions to ask, but Rhys wasn’t stupid and knew he could wait for answers.  Because his rescuer was obviously a dragon and as far as he was aware there was only one of those…well, two if he counted Jack, but he’d only been able to change shape the once, for that mating ceremony…

He took the disc and touched it to his neck where his rescuer showed him.  “And who are you?” he managed to ask, as a warm feeling began to course from his neck to all throughout his body.  He guessed the disguise was some sort of hologram or perception filter.

“I’m Sabrina, but you can call me Brina, Mr Williams,” she answered, turning her own device back on and becoming one of the natives once more.  “The Director sent me because I speak old Earth English and I could prove that you could trust me.”

“That’s some hell of a piece of proof,” he muttered as she led the way out of the door and into the corridor beyond.

Brina closed the door after him, reengaging the lock.  “I thought so,” she answered, the smile evident in her voice even as she moved away from the cell he’d been in.  Her voice had a vague Welsh accent to it, but it was distorted by a certain American-sounding twang.  “When we get out of here and into space, I’ll explain everything.”

Rhys was glad of that, but he could assume some things on his own. This young woman – well, she looked young, anyway – had to be related to Jack and Ianto in some way…at least Ianto, if she really was a dragon.  Which meant he was definitely sometime in the future, although there was no telling how far that was and how far away from Earth he was.  She also knew his name, which also had to mean that Torchwood was still out there somewhere, if her mention of a ‘Director’ was what he hoped it was. 

He would bet any amount of money that it would be Jack, still in charge.

Not that he had any money to bet with, of course.

Rhys followed Brina through a rats’ warren of corridors.  She seemed to know where she was going, so he trusted her as she took him away from the cell and into the main area of the structure he’d been imprisoned in.  His body still ached, but he ignored it, adrenaline blanketing most of it making it so he could keep up with his guide.  He knew he’d crash once he was safe, but for now he kept up, right on Brina’s heels, trying to pretend he was a native who had every right to be there.

They passed several others on their way, but they were pretty much ignored.  The only attention they drew was from this one being who narrowed its eyes at them as they went by, as if it was trying to read their minds or something.  Brina simply sneered at it, and it backed off its scrutiny.

Rhys was just thinking they were going to get away with it when they were stopped by a pair of guards wearing fancy uniforms.

Brina answered them, her voice irritated as she snapped out something in whatever language they were using.  Rhys wished again for some sort of translation device, because he was getting sick and tired of not being able to understand anyone.

He simply stood there, praying that whatever disguise Brina had given him looked bored, which was what he was aiming for.  The two guards looked at him suspiciously, but Brina managed to bring their attention back to her as she argued with them.

Their discussion didn’t last too long, and then Brina and Rhys were on their way again.  He wanted to ask her what had just happened, because judging from the pair of guard’s faces Brina had given them a severe dressing down.  He wondered just how she’d gotten so good at intimidating people, and then realised that Jack Harkness’ fine touch was at work in his rescuer, which just made him even more positive that Brina had at least a connection to Torchwood’s Director.

They crossed a wide foyer with obvious gun emplacements in equidistant points along both walls.  It looked more like some sort of gauntlet than the exit from the building, and Rhys was getting goosebumps from those guns all pointing toward them as they made their way through the crowd and toward what had to be the front door.

This was a plan Jack would have been proud of…act like you belong and go out the front like you’re just one more employee.

And then they were out.            

Rhys found himself in a wide area, built from some form of concrete and without a plant to be seen.  People scuttled through the plaza, and if he wasn’t mistaken there seemed to be actual sniper nests up on the tall wall that bordered both sides. 

Brina pulled him out into the foot traffic. “We need to get to the spaceport,” she said, “they’ve just discovered you’re gone.”

Rhys decided that she must have some sort of comm unit if she’d been able to find that out.  “Won’t they expect us to go there? ‘Cause that’s where escaped prisoners would go, wouldn’t they?”

Brina didn’t stop moving, but she changed their direction.  “You’re right,” she admitted.  “I didn’t quite expect them to find out you were gone so soon.  Which is why we’re going to use Plan B.”

“I’m so glad you have a Plan B,” he said fervently. 

“That’s our Director,” Brina chuckled.  “He has plans for his back-up plans.”

Now that didn’t sound like Jack at all, but Rhys knew Ianto was fond of planning.  “Just who is your Director?” he asked suspiciously, doubting his initial guesses about just who had sent Brina to rescue him.

“I’ll be glad to explain once we shake the planet’s dirt from our boots,” she deflected.  “Right now, two Andralan speaking an unknown language would be enough to draw attention to ourselves.  The Andralan are one of the most paranoid races in the Empire, and the last thing we need is to make anyone suspicious of us.”

At least Rhys now knew the name of the race that had captured him. 

Still, he wanted more answers, and Brina did have a point…drawing attention to themselves by speaking another language in public wasn’t going to get them off world. So, he bit his tongue and went along with her as she walked along the sidewalk, letting the crowd swallow them as they headed away from the building Rhys had just been liberated from.

He took a chance to get more of a look at his first ever alien world.  The buildings around him were all shaped like Earth-type bunkers, with small windows and many with gun emplacements on their roofs or surrounding walls.  They were all short as well, none that he could see were more than three storeys tall.  There were no artworks or billboards or anything that would have relieved the monochromatic stone of the structures and from the uniformed and armed guards posted on every street corner Rhys could understand why Brina had called the Andralan paranoid.

It was so completely different from the field that he’d landed in Rhys wondered if he hadn’t been transported to another world while he’d been unconscious.

He glanced up at the sky, which was more purple than blue and had fluffy pale clouds scudding across. The sun was also bluer than Earth’s own sun and a bit glary as well.  As he watched, a flying ship passed by overhead, with some sort of logo on it that he couldn’t read.

“Quit acting like a tourist,” Brina reprimanded, although it sounded more teasing than annoyed.  “You’ll draw attention to us.”

She had a point.  Rhys really wanted to rubberneck though; after all, it was his first time off Earth!  He’d only ever seen another planet once, and that had been from a distance, back when the Earth had been stolen by the Daleks.  This was so completely new to him that, even though he’d been put through hell ever since he’d arrived, he couldn’t help but be in awe of everything he was seeing. 

Brina led him through town, and into an area that didn’t look quite as bustling and clean.  Rhys figured this was one of the rougher sides of the city, and he stayed close to her as she headed deeper and deeper into the shadows.  He trusted that she knew where she was going; she moved with purpose, and if there really was a Plan B then she had a destination in mind.

As they walked farther, the people they passed looked more and more dangerous, some bristling with weapons and even a sort of body armour.  Rhys wondered where the guards were that had been so prevalent in the better parts of the city.  Certainly they’d be on patrol around, wouldn’t they?  If only to keep crime under control?

He really wanted to ask Brina where they were, but didn’t simply because he wasn’t in the mood to get gutted by one of those long knives several of the beings around them were carrying.  The last thing he wanted to do was be murdered on a world far from his home before he could get the explanations Brina had promised.  He really didn’t want to die ignorant.

They were stopped once, but Brina snarled at the Andralan aggressively, and that seemed to make the being back off.  Maybe it was some sort of Alpha display, or maybe Brina was just that bad arse, Rhys didn’t know, but he was glad they weren’t blocked again.

Finally, Brina entered a grimy shop that stank of must and rot.  Rhys followed, because he didn’t have a choice. 

It was some sort of junk shop, as far as he could tell.  It was dingy and dusty, unknown items on shelves that lined both walls along the narrow aisle.  Brina strode toward the back and past a short counter, nodding once at the Andralan sitting there who was looking horribly bored. 

There was a curtain across the back of the shop, and Brina pushed it aside, ushering Rhys into the back as if she’d been there before.  Maybe she had; it made sense since she seemed to know her way around so well.  The back room was cluttered and, if possible, even more dusty than the front, and she shimmied through the spaces between boxes and stacks of merchandise.  Rhys followed, trying really hard to avoid knocking anything over.  He might look like an Andralan at the moment, but the disguise only hid his natural bulk.  He wasn’t fat; the life he’d led with Torchwood prevented anyone from getting into bad shape, but he’d still managed to keep the stockiness he’d had before he’d joined the team.

Brina left the store by the rear door, cutting down an alley that had Rhys fighting a bout of homesickness.  Apparently dingy alleys were all the same galaxy-wide; all stinking and filthy and dark even during daylight hours.  He halfway expected a Weevil to poke itself out from one of the rubbish bins that lined the slimy walls.

She ducked between two bins and entered another door, this one leading into what looked like a warehouse of some sort.  There were literally walls of crates lining wide walkways, and Brina turned toward one singular stack that sat near the far corner. 

Brina’s disguise faded away.  “We’re fairly safe for the moment,” she said as she examined one of the crates. 

Rhys turned his own disguise off, watching as his companion pushed her sleeve up, revealing what looked very much like Jack’s own wrist strap, only slightly smaller and newer.  She flipped up the front, revealing a set of controls.  Brina played around with a couple of very tiny buttons.

There was a beep, and the side of the large box opened, revealing a nearly empty interior.  “Get in,” she urged.

“Bloody good thing I’m not claustrophobic,” he muttered as he did as she bid, almost stumbling over a pack of something he hadn’t been able to see in the near-darkness inside.  He picked it up and slid down to sit, his knees up to his chest and the bag pressed up beside him.

Brina also got in, sitting opposite him as she closed them inside, her feet tucked up under the pack.  “Plan B,” she whispered.  “Hand me the pack, yeah?”

Rhys did so, and he could hear her rummaging around inside.  “Here,” she pressed something into his hand.  It felt like a bulb of some kind, made of a material that felt like a sort of plastic.  “It’s water.  You might need it.”

He felt along the bulb until he found the cap.  Untwisting it, he took a drink of what was inside…and it was water, tasting better than anything he’d ever drunk before, even that local brew down at the pub near Harwood’s.

Rhys sipped at it slowly, not wanting to make himself sick by gulping it down.  He also didn’t want to risk having to take a piss at just the wrong moment.  “So, what’s next?” he asked, keeping his own voice down.

“My ride will come and pick us up,” she answered.  “It might take a while, so drink up and try to get some rest.  It’s not really safe to talk yet, but I do promise to explain everything once we’re off planet.”

It wasn’t the most comfortable place he’d ever been in, but Brina did have a point.  Rhys was exhausted from his escape, and he was still sore from the mind probe and his forced trip through the Rift.  All he really wanted to do was sleep and hope that the effects would be gone after a good nap.  “You don’t happen to have some pain killers in there?” he took the chance to ask.

He heard more rustling, and a packet was handed over.  “Then get some sleep.”

It was the best advice so far today.  Rhys took the offered medication, washed the pill down with another sip of water, and then maneuvered himself into the best position he could.

Rhys was asleep before he even knew it.


	5. Chapter 5

 

**_Unknown time_ **

**_Planet Andrala_ **

 

****

Movement awoke Rhys from the best nap he’d had since he’d ended up on this damned planet.

He braced his empty hand on the side of the crate, clutching the water bulb to his chest as the box was manhandled roughly, and even though he didn’t know the Andralan language curse words had to be easily identifiable anywhere.  There were several people outside, judging from the sounds of feet shuffling and the aforementioned cursing.

Then a female voice cut over the grumbling, and whatever she said silenced the talkback.  Someone asked a question; she answered, her tone irritated, but whoever she was she was obviously in charge out there.

A hand touched his; while he still couldn’t see Brina through the darkness inside their wooden box, he knew it had to be her, offering some sort of comfort.  It did register that she seemed to have the warmer body temperature that Ianto had, another tick beside the ‘Brina is a dragon’ supposition. 

The crate was jostled roughly, and the woman outside snapped at her colleagues once more, which settled the harsh treatment.  The crate was loaded into something, and if Rhys was any judge they weren’t the only one going along for whatever ride was going to happen.  He was just a bit bothered by the fact that at least one other crate was stacked on top of them, but he took a silent breath and rested his back against the side.

An engine turning over rattled the entire vehicle they were in, which Rhys had to assume was some sort of lorry.  He wanted to ask Brina where they were going, but didn’t dare.  He had no idea if there was anyone else in the back of the lorry with them, and the last thing he needed to do was give their presence away.  He really didn’t want to end up back in that cell.

He lost all track of time, a far too easy thing to do when all that surrounded a person was blackness and the stink of what had to be whatever version of petrol they used around there.  Eventually though they stopped, and several others began unloading the crates, being just a bit more careful than the original loaders had been. 

The woman’s voice was back, but this time she sounded almost flirty, and the voice that answered her seemed to enjoy it.  Rhys didn’t get to listen for very long…not that it mattered, since he couldn’t understand a word they were saying.  Their box was carried past the conversation and into another place, which made the boots of the workers echo against the sides. 

They were left alone for a while.  Rhys was tempted to doze off once more, but his nerves were getting the better of him.  What if they were discovered, so close to getting to freedom?  And just who had picked them up?  Brina obviously trusted whoever it was, but that didn’t necessarily mean that Rhys had to. 

It certainly didn’t help that he now had to use the loo.  What bloody great timing, that.

There was a loud hiss, and a slight shift.  He could make out Brina’s sigh.  “We’re sealed into the hold now,” she said, in her usual tone of voice.  “We’ll be taking off soon, and Cadi will come and let us out.”

“Cadi?” Rhys inquired.

“Captain-Owner Cadi ap Llyn,” Brina answered.  “She’s my older sister and one of the best smugglers in the Empire.  Dad always says that he’s proud of the fact that she hasn’t been arrested yet.”  There was affection in her voice, as well as laughter.

Rhys, though, was busily digesting the new name he’d been given.  Cadi was a good Welsh name, and as for the surname…ap Llyn had him grinning like mad, because that definitely was Welsh.

 Ap Llyn… _of the lake._

And there was only one lake that would mean anything to a dragon.

Rhys was going to ask about that, but there was another rattle, this one much less rough, and his stomach suddenly dropped into his feet.  “What the hell?” he demanded.

“We’ve just taken off,” Brina explained. 

“And why can’t you get us out of here with that fancy wrist strap of yours?”

“Because I don’t know where we’ve been packed.  It’s best to let Cadi come and get us.”

“It’s just that I really have to take a piss.”  Rhys didn’t feel at all embarrassed by admitting it.

Brina laughed.  “Just hold it a little while longer.  Cadi will be along.”

Rhys huffed, irritated, but knew he didn’t have a choice.  In fact, it wasn’t long at all before there was the sound of things shifting and in moments the side of the crate opened, Rhys blinking in the sudden bright light that filled the space he and Brina had been trapped in.

“Well, well,” a female voice – the same female voice he’d heard arguing with whoever had loaded their crate and had been rough about it – chuckled.  “It seems I have a pair of stowaways.  Should I kick you out of the airlock?”

“Cadi,” Brina snorted.  “Like that would hurt _me_.”

Rhys blinked his vision clear just as Brina was climbing out of the crate.  His muscles felt cramped and sore as he moved, but he’d never been gladder to move in his entire life.

He found himself staring at a woman about his height, her long dark hair done up in intricate braids that cascaded down her back, with tiny beads and gemstones woven within that glittered as she moved.  He could immediately see the resemblance, even though Brina’s hair was lighter brown their eyes were the same shade of blue and they each had the same dimple in their chin.  This woman – Captain-Owner Cadi ap Llyn apparently – was dressed in a tight black corset over a white blouse that should have been illegal in any galaxy; it made Rhys blush slightly to see it.  Her black trousers were tight and she wore thigh-high boots, and a gun holstered at her waist.  A long black coat was draped over the ensemble, falling in dramatic folds to her knees.

Rhys wondered if she’d gotten her dress sense from Jack.  Because that made the most sense.

“So you’re Rhys Williams,” Cadi said, smiling.  “Welcome on board the _Free Wheeler._  I’m glad Brina was able to get you out.”

“Yeah, so am I,” he answered honestly.  “And you’re Captain ap Llyn, according to Brina.”

“That I am.”  She leered at him, and that was yet another thing that reminded Rhys of Jack bloody Harkness.  “Let’s get out of the hold and up to the command deck.  It’s a lot comfortable up there.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Brina answered.  “I need to check in as well.”

“And I’d really like to have a wash, a piss, and a change of clothes,” Rhys added.  “Shoes would be nice too.”  He really had been lucky not to have gotten anything in his feet as he’d gotten a magical mystery tour of whatever that city had been named.  “Oh, and an explanation.  That would work for me.”

Cadi laughed.  “I think we can arrange all of the above.”

 

**********

 

The cabin Rhys had found himself in was tiny, but to its credit it had a bunk and a fully functional bathroom.  Relieving his bladder helped his mood, and while he barely fit within the shower stall the warm water that cascaded from the showerhead was heavenly, and when he stepped out he felt clean for the first time since this whole thing had started. 

Someone had left a pile of clothes on the bunk, and amazingly they mostly fit.  The trousers were a bit long, but once he had the boots on they were alright. 

Rhys took a deep breath, and then left the cabin, heading in the direction Cadi had given him when she’d showed him to his quarters.  The _Free Wheeler_ was a bit larger than Rhys would have guessed, with two guest cabins, a captain’s cabin, and a miniscule galley where he found Brina, brewing something that smelled remarkably like coffee.  She’d changed her clothes as well, wearing something flowy and feminine, ballet-like shoes on her feet.

“Head on up to the bridge,” she directed.  “I’ll bring food when it’s done.”

“You are a goddess among women,” Rhys couldn’t help but praise her.  “Thanks for the rescue, and the food.”

Brina laughed in delight.  “You’re quite welcome, Mr Williams.”

“It’s Rhys, love,” he said. “I think after spending hours in a cramped shipping crate we should be on a first-name basis.”

“You have a point,” she replied.  “Go on; Cadi’s expecting you.  Then we’ll get you that explanation you’ve been so patient for.”

He did as she bid, heading down the hallway toward what he’d been told was the flight deck of the spaceship.  It didn’t take him long to get there, finding the ship’s captain in the pilot chair, and Rhys didn’t even sit down before he was marvelling at the view.

He’d never even thought that, one day, he’d be seeing the stars like this.  There were so many, and it really hit home for him that he was years and miles away from where he’d grown up, on a spaceship that was taking him away from the planet he’d been a captive on. 

Bloody Torchwood.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Cadi’s voice broke into his thoughts.

“Yeah,” he admitted, sliding into what had to have been the co-pilot’s chair.  There was a slight sighing noise, and the seat adjusted itself to fit him.  “I thanked Brina, but I also wanted to thank you too for the rescue.”

Cadi waved a hand.  “Sometimes it’s nice to be on the side of the angels.  Besides, I also got a decent cargo out of it, so it’s profit all the way for me on this trip.”

“Brina said you’re one of the best smugglers in the Empire.”

“She did?” Cadi grinned.  “I suppose she has a point.”

At that point Rhys figured out that he was in the presence of a female Han Solo, and then wondered if anyone even remembered the _Star Wars_ movies. 

“Of course I do.”  Brina appeared, carrying a tray.  “Tad is appalled and Dad is secretly proud.”  She balanced on one leg, using a foot to prod open what appeared to be some sort of table recessed into the wall.  Once it was out, she set the tray down, sitting herself in a jump seat next to Cadi’s own.  “I’ve managed to raid your galley, Cadi.”

“You found the coffee then?” Cadi swivelled around, to look at her sister. 

“Yep,” Brina answered, popping that final ‘p’.  “I’m sure Rhys would appreciate a cup, as well as something to eat.”

As if on cue, Rhys’ stomach rumbled.  “Sorry about that.  I haven’t had anything to eat in…I don’t know how long, actually.”

Brina handed over a sandwich, although some of the ingredients didn’t look Earth-like at all.  Rhys trusted her not to poison him.  “I got the call a standard week ago while I was on Indira,” she answered.  “Cadi must have at about the same time, because she was already there to meet me at my last assignment.  She smuggled me onto Andrala easily enough.”

“Is that close then?” Rhys asked, after he’d taken the time to swallow.  The sandwich was really quite good.

“Indira is a sister world to Andrala,” she explained.  “I’d been there helping with a dirty politician who wanted to renegotiate a treaty with one of Indira’s trading partners.  Our brother, Alun, had been sent in to Adjudicate the case but no one could prove that the politician was shady.  That was up to me.”

“Andrala actually accused Indira of sending you as a spy,” Cadi scoffed, eating her own sandwich.  “Like they’d actually do that.  Indira has its own problems and they’re actually used to all sorts of accusations from Andrala.  They mostly blow them all off anymore.”

“But Alun got a hold of a copy of the video that the Andralan government had sent with the accusation,” Brina went on.  “He recognised that you were speaking an Old Earth dialect and sent the video on, and the Director confirmed that you were a spacio-temporal event, and that fell under Torchwood’s purview.”

“So, Torchwood’s still around then?” It was a confirmation of what Rhys had assumed.

“Oh yes,” Brina answered. 

“So, is Jack Harkness still the Director?”

“No,” Cadi replied.  “He and Tad retired nearly two thousand years ago.”

Rhys was surprised by that information.  He’d been so sure that neither of them would have given up Torchwood so easily.  “So, who’s in charge?”

“That would be Phillip Coulson,” Brina said.  “I’m not sure if you’d know him – “

“Bloody hell, of course I do!  He was Director of SHIELD in my time!” They’d really only just figured out Coulson’s being immortal the year before, what with the hand growing back and all that.  “And how long has he been running things then?”

“Not long, really.  About five standard years. Our nephew, Arthur, was Director for about fourteen hundred years, and before then it was a cycle of mortals running things with Dad and Tad as the power behind the throne, so to speak, although they won’t admit that.  They’ll claim they were comfortably retired and raising their family.”

Rhys’ head was spinning.  It was obvious now that the Dad and Tad both women had mentioned were Jack and Ianto, but how was that possible?  Some sort of surrogate thing then?  “Just how many of you are there?” he asked, feeling slightly stunned by this turn of events. 

“There’s seventeen of us kids,” Cadi said.  “Although five of us are adopted…”

“Dad and Tad took turns carrying the rest of us,” Brina added.  “Dad carried me; Tad carried Cadi.”

Okay, this was going down the rabbit hole far too quickly for Rhys to catch himself.  “Wait, are you saying…?”  He couldn’t even get the words out.

Cadi looked as if she was going to say something teasing, but Brina shot her a glare and said, “Yeah, men didn’t have babies in your time, did they?”

“No!” Rhys denied, the word coming out as a squeak, although if anyone said anything he’d deny it had sounded that way.  Both Jack and Ianto were able to have kids?  That didn’t sound possible, but then he did work for Torchwood and a space/time rift had just dragged him across the galaxy and through millennia, so who was he to judge? 

Then he laughed, recalling certain comments Jack had made on occasion.  “I guess this means Jack wasn’t kidding those times he mentioned about being able to get pregnant.”  He shook his head.  “Although as far as I know male dragons are just that.  Is male pregnancy contagious then?”

Cadi snorted.  “Nope, it’s magic.”

“Of course it is.  My Great-Gran was a midwife with a particularly high success rate in helping people who couldn’t get pregnant.  Magic just makes sense.”

That earned him twin grins from his companions.  “Okay,” Cadi said, finishing her coffee, “the plan is this: we’re gonna drop you off with another of our sisters, Morgan, and she’ll be the one to get you to Hubworld.  Dad and Tad will be waiting for you there, and they’ll want to get you checked out, make sure there isn’t any sort of permanent injury because of your trip through the Rift.”

“Makes sense.”  Rhys ate the rest of his sandwich then went on.  “You know, I should actually have asked this before, but just when am I?”

Brina looked chagrined.  “And I should have mentioned it sooner.  It’s the Earth Standard Year 5119.”

That was the last piece of information Rhys needed in that moment.  He finally felt the last of the stress leave him, and he sighed, relieved.  At his rescuers’ looks, he replied, “I know we’ve been talking about being in the future, but there was a part of me who was pretty well terrified of being in the past, and that I’d be alone.”  It was silly, and he understood that, but it was confirmation that everything was really going to be okay.

From the expressions on the faces of the two dragons sitting with him, Rhys could see they understood.

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter I mention Jack's mother, Samara. I've written the story that introduces her, but I just haven't posted it yet.

 

**_12 June 5119 (Earth Standard Date)_ **

**_Gliese 581g (Hubworld)_ **

 

****

It had been three days since the news that Rhys Williams had made his way fairly safely through the Rift and deposited onto one of the more paranoid places in the Twelve Galaxies.  Neither Jack nor Ianto had wanted to leave Hubworld, even though they could have gotten back from Ddraig Llyn fairly quickly, and so they’d taken rooms in one of the Torchwood employee buildings, waiting to hear word back on the progress their daughters, Sabrina and Cadi, had made.

So far, everything had gone according to plan.  Sabrina had reported in that she’d succeeded in getting Rhys out of his cell and onto Cadi’s transport, which was now in hyperspace and about two more days out from Madrina, where they were due to leave Rhys in Morgan’s care.  It would then be over another standard week with one stop along the way – Morgan had been planning on heading to Dahlnia Prime in order to perform a special concert in aid of the recovery efforts there after the near-planet-wide disaster it had just suffered – before they would arrive on Hubworld, and while Ianto did feel the same as Jack about wanting to wait, they had six young dragons at home who would be demanding to see them long before that. 

It didn’t matter that Jack’s mother, Samara, was there to keep an eye on things; as much as the youngsters adored their Gran, it was their fathers that they really needed to see.  And, while William, James, and Oswyn were finally getting over their separation anxiety issues and Robyn was overcoming her fear of flying, they were all still fragile, especially Lisa, even though they now knew what was wrong with her, thanks to Jack’s Mam.  Alyce was perfectly fine and willing to play with her adopted siblings, but it still wasn’t the same as having parents there.  Ianto honestly didn’t see them being able to stay as long as it would take for Rhys to arrive.

They were having breakfast in their unit when both of their comms chirped.

_“Director Harkness; Second Jones,”_ said the voice of Phillip’s assistant, Bratsk.  _“Director Coulson needs you both back to the tower immediately.”_

“Did Phillip say what it is?” Jack asked, activating his earwig.

_“No,”_ Bratsk answered, _“but the Andralan are on a secured channel, asking for the Director personally.”_

Of course they were.

Ianto wiped his fingers on his napkin as Jack assured Bratsk that they were on the way.  He hadn’t really known what to expect from the Andralan, however direct communications hadn’t been it.  Ianto knew his daughter; knew that Sabrina was one of the best agents they had, and he couldn’t think of a thing that could have given away Torchwood’s presence in events.  Maybe it was a coincidence…but then, neither the elder dragon nor his mate truly believed in coincidence after so many centuries.

“This can’t be good,” Jack murmured as they rode the lift down together.

Ianto agreed.

Their lodging unit was only a five minute walk from Torchwood Tower.  Both of them took it at a ground eating stride, wanting to get there before anything happened.  People moved aside for them on the walkways as if sensing they were on urgent business, for which Ianto was grateful.  He couldn’t help but think this was bad news.

Could the Andralan have somehow traced Cadi’s ship?  That didn’t seem plausible.  Their daughter was good at what she did, which was why she was hardly ever caught at it.  The _Free Wheeler_ might not have looked like much on the outside, but Cadi had made her ship that way on purpose, hiding some of the most state of the art systems on any ship out there.  Ianto was willing to bet that the Andralan hadn’t been able to trace them no matter what sort of sensors they had.

He wasn’t even going to consider that Sabrina had somehow given the game away.  She was just too much of a professional for that to happen.

That didn’t leave Ianto with any sort of clue that would have the Andralan calling and asking to speak to Torchwood’s Director.  He knew that Phillip would be able to handle anything the Andralan threw at him, but the dragon was glad that their son-by-mating had called them in to at least witness the conversation.  That had to be the reason he’d had Bratsk call for them; so they could be present at whatever the Andralan had up their collective sleeves.

They made it up to Phillip’s office in record time.  Bratsk sat at hir desk, today wearing the form of Phillip’s old SHIELD Second, Agent Melinda May.  Ianto had once asked him how he felt about the Zygon taking the shapes of so many old friends and family, and Phillip had simply smiled, saying that as long as Bratsk could pluck their images from his mind it meant that he remembered them, at least a little. 

The shape of Melinda May nodded at them, and they entered the office as Phillip was coming to sit at his desk.  “Thank you for getting here so quickly,” he greeted.  “I didn’t think I should keep the Andralan representative on hold that much longer.”

“Thanks for calling us in,” Jack answered, shutting the door.  “We’ll stay out of vid-shot and let you deal with it.  We don’t want to be seen to undermine your authority.”

Phillip smiled.  “Let me get them connected and we’ll see what they want.  Although I think we can all agree it has to do with our wayward Mr Williams.”  He pressed a touchpad on his desk.  “Communications, please put through the Andralan representative to my office.”

The Communications Officer on duty acknowledged the request, and the holovid dropped down from the ceiling in front of Phillip.  Ianto and his mate could see through it, but the Andralan would not be able to see them.

“I apologise about the delay,” Phillip opened the conversation, his voice bland, “however I was offsite.  How can Torchwood help you today?”

_“You can deliver us back your spy for trial,”_ the Andralan answered sharply, a slight accent to his Galactic Standard. 

“I’m afraid I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about,” Phillip reposted.   Ianto thought the small bit of boredom in his response was a nice touch.  “We have no spy on Andrala, nor would we have a reason to even plant a spy on your world.”

_“Do not lie to us, Torchwood,”_ the Andralan spat.  _“We have proof of your culpability.”_

Ianto glanced over at his mate.  Jack was frowning, and the dragon didn’t blame him.  There really couldn’t be any proof that Rhys was with Torchwood; after all, he was from the twenty-first century, and he knew that his daughters would have been very careful when they’d rescued him.

Still, it bothered Ianto, and he could tell that Phillip was as well.  The Andralan would not have noticed; it took someone who was familiar with Torchwood’s current Director to catch the slight tightening around Phillip’s eyes. 

“Then you should probably show us this so-called proof,” Phillip challenged calmly.  “Because we don’t have any reason to send anyone to your world, let alone use them to spy on you.”

From the various files he’d read on Andrala, Ianto knew this was true.  The only planets that would have had any sort of interest about Andrala would have been its sister planets, Indira and Halistra, and they both didn’t care enough to bother.  Besides, hadn’t Andrala been blaming Indira for Rhys’ presence?  This change of mind didn’t make any sense.

The holographic image of the Andralan moved slightly off camera, and then returned holding something in their hand.  Ianto narrowed his eyes, trying to get a better look through the back of the video.

It looked like a leather wallet.

Suddenly, Ianto knew exactly what the Andralan had found, and he barely stifled the curse that bubbled up into his throat.

Jack caught his change of mood, and put a hand on the dragon’s shoulder.  Ianto wondered if Jack remembered, since he’d argued against it vociferously with the then-Queen of England.

The Andralan opened the wallet, and withdrew a business card from inside.  While the being might not have been able to read the old English writing on it, the Torchwood ‘T’ on it was easily recognisable.

_“The spy carried your symbol,”_ the Andralan accused.

Phillip didn’t even blink at the reveal, and Ianto decided he was never going to play poker with his son’s mate ever again.  “If you would look closely,” he said, “you would see that this is not, in fact, the Torchwood symbol.  While ours does indeed have that stylised ‘T’ on it, where is the dragon?  I think you have this confused with our coat of arms.  Now, if this is the only proof you have, then I wish you a good day.”

He moved his hand toward the disconnect button, but not before the Andralan snarled, _“We will make a formal complaint to your Emperor, Director.  You will not get away with this outrage!”_

Phillip disconnected the call, leaning back in his chair and pinching the bridge of his nose.  “Torchwood business cards, Jack?  Really?”

“I seem to remember it wasn’t my call,” Jack defended.  “I also seem to remember that I fought Lizzie tooth and nail about it, but she insisted that at least the higher level Torchwood employees carry some sort of identification with them to give to anyone questioning Torchwood’s reason for being on any sort of site.”

Ianto nodded, glad that his mate recalled that bit of history.  “He’s right.  Besides, do we have to remind you how SHIELD used to logo everything?” He said it teasingly, because Jack had, at one point, been particularly bad about the obvious branding.

“No, you don’t.”  Phillip sighed.  “I’m going to call Steve and warn him that the Andralan might be calling and to give him the information that we have.  Because this is a spacio-temporal event jurisdiction would usually fall to Torchwood, but we all knew that the Andralan wouldn’t buy that explanation going into this.”

“Which is why Sabrina and Cadi were sent in after him,” Jack finished.

“We’d also better warn Cadi, Sabrina, and Morgan,” Ianto added.  “While I doubt the Andralan will be able to track Rhys, we might want to cover every possibility.”

Phillip nodded.  “The last thing we need is to have them ambushed if the Andralan do manage to get to them.  Although, I’m more than certain they’ll go through channels before resulting to attempted kidnapping.  They have to, according to the agreements they have with the Empire.”

“Unless of course they want to provoke us,” Ianto pointed out. 

Jack barked out a laugh.  “Yeah, let’s be all pessimistic!”

The dragon couldn’t help but chuckle.  “It’s not like you don’t love me anyway.”

“You do have a point…”

“You are both disgusting,” Phillip said primly.  “And in my office as well.”

“Yes, but we’ve seen you and our son together,” the dragon answered.  “If you think we’re disgusting…”

“I don’t know what you mean.  And I have to get back to work.”

“We’ll get to Communications and contact the girls,” Jack offered, snickering, “if you want to tackle Steve.”

“That sounds like a plan.  Now please leave my office before we all dissolve into puddles of romantic goo.”

“I’ve seen that before, you know,” Jack exclaimed.  “It was this weird spore from this planet where everyone was – “

“And that’s enough of that,” Ianto laughed.  He tugged on the sleeve of his mate’s jacket, pulling him from the office.  “Let’s go and talk to our daughters, shall we?”

Jack didn’t put up a fight, and he even shut the door as they left.

 

**********

 

The Communications Suite of Torchwood Tower took up a large chunk of the twelfth floor, and the lift door opened into a bustle of employees running back and forth between various stations, carrying messages to whoever needed them.  The low-level hum of conversations surrounded them, and it was almost comforting.

Ianto and Jack joined the flow of people easily.  They’d been the ones who’d built up the Communications Suite from the first days of the Torchwood Institute on Hubworld, and Ianto knew that both of them were rightly proud of it.  Everything was handled under various procedures that they’d put into place, once it was decided that the Institute would have jurisdiction beyond the then-budding Empire.  It had only grown since then.

Ianto knew that he and Jack hadn’t really had to go through the Comms Suite in order to contact their daughters, since both of them still had their passcodes and were technically in charge of the Institute – even though Phillip was the official Director – but they would never even think of usurping Phillip’s authority.  They could have very easily turfed Phillip out of the Director’s office and used the equipment there and Phillip wouldn’t have said a thing. 

But Phillip was family, even before he’d mated with Clint.  Plus, he was a great Director, one that didn’t deserve to be treated like that.

However, they weren’t above taking over one of the consoles.  The Earth Reptile that had been sitting at their chosen cubicle gave them a double-take, obviously recognising Ianto’s dragon-ness, and then scuttled away with an honourable bow to them both. 

Ianto thanked him politely, taking the now empty seat.  He would have to make a note to the specialist’s supervisor as to the cleanliness and orderliness of the station when they left, which Ianto appreciated.

Jack knelt beside him as Ianto input the _Free Wheeler_ ’s comm code, waiting for their daughter to accept the connection.  A hand snaked about Ianto’s waist and the dragon smiled over at his mate, Jack’s head a few inches lower than his own from his position on the floor. 

The holovid came online, and Cadi’s face appeared.  _“This is the trading vessel_ Free Wheeler… _oh hey, Dad and Tad!”_ She grinned.  _“This is a pleasant surprise.”_

“How far are you out from Madrina?” Jack asked.

Cadi rolled her eyes.  _“We’re 56 standard hours out, but I think you probably already knew that…”_ The grin faded, replaced by a shrewd stare.  _“Okay, what’s going on?”_

Ianto explained about the Andralan’s call to Torchwood, demanding Rhys’ return.  “We know you’re careful,” he ended, “but would there be any possible way that the Andralan could know about the pick-up?”

Cadi gnawed on her lower lip.  _“I didn’t use the spaceport, but I still had to observe air traffic rules.  The last thing we’d have wanted was to have a mid-air collision.  And you know that the transponder on the_ Wheeler _has been banjaxed almost since the day I won her.  There’s certainly a possibility that the Andralan Security Forces could have pinpointed my ship as the one with their prisoner on it, but there had to have been several launches at the same time, and once I hit hyperspace there would have been no way to trace my course unless there was some sort of transmitter onboard, and I know damned well there wouldn’t be.”_

She had a point.  Out of the corner of his eye Ianto could see Jack nodding in agreement, and Jack was the one who was far more ship-savvy than Ianto could ever be.  He still hated flying anywhere, because he just didn’t feel like it was safe.  Cadi – and to a lesser degree, Anwyn and Jack – had often teased him about it.  However, he wasn’t like his Star Dragon children; the vacuum of space would be just as deadly to him as it would be to anyone else, and he would be completely defenceless against it.  Even Morgan, Pryce, and Kaitlyn, who hadn’t yet gained their dragon forms, would have had some sort of minimal protection against decompression.

“How is Rhys doing?” Ianto asked, trying to cover his discomfort.

_“He’s exhausted,”_ their daughter reported.  _“He’s been sleeping mostly since we got him off Andrala.  Brina did a basic medical scan on him, and he seems to be physically fine, but getting him under the more sensitive scans at Torchwood Tower would make me feel better.”_ She grinned.  _“I like him.  You should have heard some of the more colourful language he used in describing his time under the mind probe.  He pretty much told them everything…”_ Cadi paused.  _“Wouldn’t the Andralan have had all that translated?  Wouldn’t that prove that Rhys is nothing more than an innocent in all this?”_

“I doubt they’d go to all that trouble,” Jack scoffed.  “My opinion is the Andralan only used the mind probe to get Rhys to trip up and use a language they could understand, and thus prove he was indeed a spy for someone.”

“Of course that wouldn’t happen,” Ianto added.  “The only other language Rhys knew – knows – is Welsh, and there are far less people who speak that than they do old Earth English.” He’d have to get used to thinking of Rhys in the present tense once more.

_“And that’s only a handful of people outside our own family,”_ Cadi agreed.  Then her expression turned sly.  _“It’s good to have our own private language. We can pass along all sorts of secrets and no one would know the difference.”_

“I’m surprised you haven’t suggested using it as a sort of smuggler’s tongue,” Jack snorted. 

_“What makes you think I haven’t?”_

“Speaking of languages,” Ianto cut into what could possibly turn into another sharing of old times between father and daughter, “Morgan will have one of the special translators for Rhys once you arrive on Madrina.”

While the translators available through commercial means were excellent pieces of technology, the “Merlin” Specials as they were called had been augmented by magic.  It gave the translators a larger range and access to more languages than the normal units did, which was a good thing when the person using them spoke a language that, technically, no longer existed.

_“Good,”_ Cadi said.  _“Rhys is fine now, but once he gets out among other races he’ll want to be able to understand what they’re saying.  He really is a curious one.  He actually wanted me to teach him how to fly the_ Wheeler!”

That sounded like Rhys Williams.  “I’m sure we could find someone to teach him once he’s settled,” Ianto smiled.

_“You’re not going to find a way to send him back then?”_

Jack sighed.  “According to history, Rhys never came back.  We thought he was dead…until Phillip showed us that video with the Andralan using the mind probe on him.”

Ianto knew there would be ways to send Rhys back to 2016, but Jack was right…Rhys Williams had never come home.  They would have to obey the Laws of Time on this; they couldn’t risk changing the past.  They’d all been witnesses to attempts to do just that, and none of them had worked.  There were reasons the former Time Agency had rules against any of their agents going back to the twentieth and twenty-first centuries…that was when everything changed.  Torchwood had been ready, and they just couldn’t risk Rhys coming back and disrupting things too much.

He just hoped Rhys would understand.

_“Then it sounds like we have a new member of the family,”_ Cadi answered.

Ianto smiled.  “No…he’s a member of the family finally coming home.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to start posting chapters twice a week, since I now have five complete stories ahead. :)

 

**_15 June 5119 (Earth Standard Date)_ **

**_Hyperspace, in transit to Planet Madrina_ **

 

****

Rhys stretched, yawning.  He felt so much better having slept, and even though he thought he could have gone back to bed that tiny bunk was putting what could become a permanent kink in his spine.  Besides, he needed to go to the loo – or the head, as Cadi had corrected him – and he really was gasping for a cup of coffee and some food. 

He had no idea how long he’d slept, but he didn’t much care.  Rhys shuffled around the small cabin, using the facilities and then pulling on his clothes and shoes, heading into the corridor once he was done. 

It was empty, and he guessed that both Brina and Cadi were up in the cockpit.  He made his way in that direction, passing the galley and grabbing some of the still warm coffee from the carafe sitting on the bench along with a piece of what he thought might have been fruit; it was a glossy purple, about the same shape and size of an apple.  He sniffed it, inhaling the slight citrusy scent.  It made his stomach rumble so he took a bite, barely able to keep the moan of pleasure inside.  The fruit tasted like a combination of lime and pear, and it was one of the loveliest things he’d ever put into his mouth.

Well, food that was. 

Bloody hell, he’d been around Jack Harkness far too long.

That thought brought back his current predicament, and the reminder that both Jack and Ianto had thought he’d been long dead. 

That was a sobering thought.

He grabbed a second piece of fruit and headed up toward the pilot deck.  The walls of the corridor that ran the length of the spaceship were a maple-looking wood, much like what he’d have seen in a fancy hotel.  There was a burgundy coloured rug under his feet, so the effect was about as less a spaceship than Rhys would have imagined.

The corridor opened up into the flight deck and, as he’d thought, both women were there; Cadi in the pilot seat, and her sister next to her.  Rhys took the jump seat behind Brina.  “Anything exciting going on?” he asked, glancing out of the large front window.  Stars were streaking by at an alarming rate, but Cadi had told him they would be travelling through hyperspace, otherwise it would have taken them years to get to Madrina. 

Not even Rhys had enough patience for _that_ long a trip.

“Got word from Hubworld,” Cadi answered, looking sombre.  “Turns out the Andralan figured out that you’re with Torchwood, so now they think Phillip sent you to spy for him.”

“How the bloody hell…!” he exclaimed, before he thought about it.  “What did they do?  Finally translate all the shit I gave them under their fucking mind probe?”

“Afraid not.  Apparently you had some cards in your wallet with the Torchwood symbol on them.” 

Rhys exhaled loudly.  “Those cards…Jack argued against them, but the Queen insisted that all high ranking Torchwood employees carry them.”  He’d only had to use them a couple of times, and Ianto had considered them a waste of the stationery budget.  “Bet she didn’t know they’d get us all into trouble.”

Cadi shook her head, smirking.  “I’m sure they were of use at the time.”

“So,” he sighed, “what’s the plan now?”

“Same as before.  We’re going to drop you off with our sister, Morgan, on Madrina.  She’ll take you as far as Hubworld.  Dad and Tad will be waiting there for you, and you’ll be safe back at Ddraig Llyn.  They’ll get everything straightened out.”

Rhys nodded.  Being safe sounded good.  And it was good to know that Jack and Ianto still had a home in the valley.  Rhys had loved it there the times he’d been able to visit.  But he had to ask, “Are you sure this can all be sorted?”

“Oh yes,” Brina answered.  “Phillip will be able to do it, with his connections.  It won’t matter that the Andralan are going to make a complaint in front of the Emperor, because what they don’t realise is that we have all the evidence we need to prove you’re just an innocent in all this, and that the Andralan are just blowing hot air.”

“There are certain protocols set up in case of a proven spacio-temporal event,” Cadi added.  “Every planet that’s allied with the Empire signs these protocols.  And one of those protocols means that such events are always under Torchwood’s jurisdiction…” A beeping sound came from the control panel, and she turned back to check it.  “We’re about to come out of hyperspace over Madrina,” she reported.

That sounded fantastic.  As much as Rhys loved travelling by spaceship, it would be good to get his feet back on good old solid ground again.

The racing stars began to collapse, and in the ship’s window appeared a blue world that seemed to be mostly water.  Green islands dotted the surface, and even from their height Rhys could make out ships shuttling between the islands.  They were on the daylight side of the planet, but there was a bare shadow of night side visible, and lights glittered in that separation between light and dark. 

It was an incredible sight, and Rhys wished he had a camera to record it. 

“Madrina,” Cadi announced.  “The surface is eighty-three percent water, so not only are there cities on the land masses but under the water as well.  We’re going to land on one of them, and then go by submersible down to where Morgan is staying.”

Rhys found himself getting more and more excited about seeing another alien world…well, at least this one didn’t have people coming after him wanting to torture him and, quite possibly, kill him.  He settled into the jump seat as Cadi took them in lower, calling in to some sort of air traffic control to get permission to land…well, he assumed that was what she was doing, since he didn’t speak the language.  It was frustrating him, and he’d asked about it; Cadi had said they would work something out.  There were personal translators available, and he hoped to get one so he could at least understand what the hell everyone else who didn’t speak bloody English was actually saying. 

Landing on another planet was almost boring, but he couldn’t help but act like the tourist that Brina had once accused him of being.  As they got closer to the surface, Rhys noticed that the water wasn’t exactly blue; there was a greenish cast to it, and the waves that were kicked up had slightly yellow foam caps to them. 

The island they were heading toward seemed more man-made than natural.  There wasn’t any sort of plant life on it, with only a black sand beach besides the tall building that poked up from the middle of the island like a metallic finger.  The rest of the island was all some sort of concrete, and there were all sorts of spaceships parked on it, some with long umbilicals hooked to them, and others simply standing there.  Ground crews were bustling around, and Cadi pointed the _Free Wheeler_ toward an empty patch, where several people waited for them to land.

She set the spaceship down with nary a bump, and was up and out of the cockpit before Rhys could even react.  “It’s okay,” Brina assured him, “she’s going to speak to the Portmaster and arrange to have the ship serviced.”

That made sense.  Rhys stood and followed Brina up and down the central corridor, toward the rear of the ship.  There was the main airlock; it was already open, and as they walked down it Rhys noticed Cadi speaking to a tall, thin man with green skin and large frilly ears that waved slightly in the breeze.  The air smelled of salt and something else that he could not identify but was pleasant, and he couldn’t help but take a deep breath of it, smiling.

Brina was grinning at him.  She took his arm, drawing him toward Cadi and the man she was talking to. The wind caught their words, more that Rhys couldn’t understand, but he’d been assured that he’d be getting a translation device of some sort.  He couldn’t wait to be able to finally communicate with someone who _didn’t_ speak English.

Cadi shook hands with the man – the Portmaster, obviously – and then turned as Brina and Rhys approached.  “Rhys, this is where we part company,” she said.  “I’m off to my next stop, and Brina has an assignment to get to.” 

Rhys had known that would happen, but he’d hoped that he wouldn’t be left with strangers so soon.  Something must have shown in his face because Cadi put a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, it’s going to be fine,” she replied.  “Nathan is here, and you can trust him.  He’s going to take you down to the venue where Morgan’s set up for her concert tonight.”

“Aunt Cadi!  Aunt Brina!”

Rhys turned in the direction of the voice.  It was a young man, but he didn’t look human.  He was about Rhys’ own height, skinny as a rail, with silver hair cut in a short style that was ruffled as soon as he was close enough for Cadi to do so, which he tried to duck without success.  He had dusky skin, and what looked like fine scales running from his temples, across his cheeks, and down his neck.  The rest of his face was clear, and in it Rhys could see the Harkness-Jones cleft chin and nose.  His eyes were a brilliant blue, with a bit of green and brown mixed in. 

His clothes were…well, flamboyant was a good word to describe them.  The shirt was multi-coloured, slashes of green, blue, yellow, and white in chaotic patterns across his chest.  His trousers were white, glowing in the sunlight, and his boots were a brilliant purple.  It should have looked horrific, but it really didn’t.

“You must be Mr Williams,” Nathan enthused, putting a hand out.

Rhys took it, charmed by the young man’s happy grin, even if he thought he should have been vaguely alarmed by the enlarged canine teeth the boy had.  “It’s Rhys.  And you’re Nathan.”  He’d expected the young man to look like his aunts, and this was actually a pleasant surprise.  Of course Jack had shared stories of all sorts of aliens that he’d had sex with before meeting Ianto, but Rhys had always taken them with a really large grain of salt.  To know that one of his own children had had their own kid with someone not dragon and not human was proof that Jack really didn’t have a prejudiced bone in his body, and that he’d passed that along to the rest of his family.

Well, except that his boss _was_ prejudiced against idiots.  But that just made sense.

“Oh!  I have something for you.”  He dug into a pocket of his trousers, pulling out a small device that was almost dwarfed by his long fingers.  It was a dull silver and didn’t look like much.  “I promised Granddad and Grandtad that I’d give this to you right away.”

Rhys took it.  The moment his fingers touched it, a tingle zapped his palm, up his arm, and into his shoulder.  He almost dropped it, but managed to close his fist around the device.  “What is it?”

“It’s a translator,” Brina was the one to answer.  “Just put it in your ear and not only will you be able to understand anyone around you, but they’ll be able to understand you as well.”

“Oh thank God,” Rhys couldn’t help but exclaim.  He slid the tiny device into his ear, and it didn’t even feel like there was anything in his ear canal after it was seated.  “How does that work, anyway?”

“My cousin Merlin used magic,” Nathan said proudly.  “That translator is better than anything else out there currently.”

Rhys had heard about Merlin, along with the entire Harkness-Jones clan, during those times when he’d hung out with Cadi and Brina.  Honestly, if he hadn’t already been raised by someone who believed in magic and had worked for an organisation like Torchwood he might have scoffed at the whole reincarnation thing, but with all the weird shit he’d heard about and seen he’d found it disgustingly easy to accept. 

Well, apart from the fact that Clint Barton had been reborn as one of Jack and Ianto’s kids, that was. 

Maybe he shouldn’t.  Clint had been an equal witness to crazy stuff.  Rhys just wasn’t sure why him, and no one else? Surely the others in Torchwood should have been somehow worthy of being reborn?  Or was it just the few in the family that anyone knew of?  Perhaps they’d already been reincarnated at some other point? 

He’d have to ask about that when he saw his bosses again.

“I need to head out,” Brina interrupted.  She wrapped her arms around Rhys in a hug, and he had absolutely no problem hugging her back.  He was going to miss her, but he had no doubt they’d meet again at some point.  “You take care of yourself.”

“I will,” he assured her.  He pulled back, smiling at her.  “Thanks for coming to the rescue.”

“Anytime.  Only don’t do it again, yeah?”

He laughed.  “I’ll try not to.”

“Bye, Aunt Brina,” Nathan said, also accepting a hug.  “I’ll look after him.”

“I’m sure you will.”  Brina turned and headed deeper into the spaceport, twisting once to wave over her shoulder.

“And you should get our friend here down to the venue,” Cadi prodded.  “Morgan is going to be expecting him before her next performance.”

Nathan shrugged.  “We have plenty of time, but you’re right.” He hugged his other aunt as well.  “Be safe out there, Aunt Cadi.”

“I always am.” She winked at him.  Then she regarded Rhys.  “It’s been a pleasure, and I’m sure we’ll cross paths again.” 

Cadi held out her hand, and Rhys took it, pulling her into her own embrace.  “Thanks,” he murmured in her ear.

There was a warm puff of air against his ear as she chuckled quietly.  “Not a problem, handsome.”  She stepped back and gave Rhys a wink as well.  “You’ve got a place on the _Wheeler_ anytime, Rhys Williams.  Maybe next time I’ll even teach you to fly her.”

Rhys rolled his eyes.  “Yeah, I doubt it.  You love that ship too much to let anyone else mess with her.”

Cadi laughed delightedly.  “You’re right!”  She waved her hands at them.  “Take him below, Nathan, and keep an eye on him.  He’s Torchwood, which means he has the same trouble gene we all have.”

“I don’t know whether to be insulted or pleased!” Rhys exclaimed.

“You can be both,” she answered.  With that, she was walking back toward her ship, where there was a ground crew bustling around, doing whatever needed to be done before Cadi could take her back into space.

“Come on,” Nathan urged.  “Our submersible is this way.”

 


	8. Chapter 8

 

**_15 June 5119 (Earth Standard Date)_ **

**_Madrina_ **

 

 

Rhys followed the young man across the tarmac and toward the edge of the island, where there was a line of piers set up.  At some where actual sailing vessels, some with broad sails and others that had only engines.  They were very much like the boats that Rhys had often seen in Cardiff Bay, and if it weren’t for the fact that the sky and the sea were different from Earth’s and that he was walking beside a young person with obvious alien blood in him Rhys might have been able to convince himself that he was at home.

There was a roar overhead, and Rhys spun to watch as a ship lifted off.  It was sleek, and painted a blinding white.  “It’s a yacht,” Nathan explained.  “Must be some rich family going somewhere.”

Nathan moved away and Rhys went with him.  There were others milling around the piers; all of them races he had never seen before.  It was thrilling, that he’d finally got to see other beings that weren’t hell-bent on killing him. 

There were walking starfishes, intelligent horse-like aliens, a couple that resembled Old Earth satyrs, some that looked like humans but were a bright red, and so many others Rhys felt his mind boggling.  And yet, Nathan ignored them all, cutting through the crowds without a single glance around them.  But then, the young man was used to all of this, and Rhys hoped he would never become so jaded that he’d get used to all this variety. 

It was then that he realised that he wasn’t even considering going home.

Rhys wondered when that had become his normal.  That he fully didn’t expect to ever see twenty-first century Cardiff ever again.  He knew there was time travel; he’d been witness to it several times since working for Torchwood.  And that wasn’t even counting the Doctor, who he knew now was Merlin’s father and that Jack and Ianto had made amends with.  No, lately it hadn’t even crossed his mind that he would be going back. 

Nathan took them down one of the piers.  The vessel that was waiting for them was obviously a submarine of some sort; it sat deep in the water, with only a bit of hull and a clear hatch showing above the waves.  There was some writing on the hull, and at first Rhys couldn’t make sense of the looping script-like words but then they wiggled slightly and rearranged themselves into the words, _Reefside Voyager Three._

“What the…?” he stammered in surprise.            

“Oh, sorry,” Nathan said, looking contrite.  “I should’ve warned you that the translator taps directly into your brain waves and lets you read languages, too.” He then grinned.  “Which makes them even more special!  Merlin says it’s almost the same technology that the Doctor’s TARDIS uses when it translates for her passengers.  Not quite though because the TARDIS is sentient, but still…”

Rhys shrugged.  Made about as much sense as anything, and he was just glad he wouldn’t have to rely on someone reading things to him as well.

There was a ramp leading from the pier to the submarine, and Nathan took like he’d also been born part monkey, and it made it hit home for Rhys that this was, indeed, Clint Barton’s son; he’d seen the archer do things like that before so that agility had to be genetic.

Once across, Nathan opened the hatch.   Rhys followed him across more slowly, not wanting to lose his balance and end up in the drink.  He did make it without much wobbling, and the young man waited until he was safely inside the ship before joining him and closing the hatch behind them.

The interior of the craft didn’t look all that high tech, to be honest.  There were familiar gauges, switches, and dials, and a control yoke that looked like the one in most of the aircraft Rhys had seen.  The hatch met the top of the control panel, and there was an audible hissing noise as it sealed them in…and the water out.

Nathan slid a headset on, flicking switches as he prepared their take-off.

Could it be called take-off if they were going underwater?  Rhys wondered about it vaguely until Nathan radioed in that they were submerging and that their destination was the Reefside Entertainment Complex.  Rhys’ heart thrilled a bit as the small submarine dropped below the surface of the water, and for the first time ever he found himself travelling under the sea.

And it was an alien sea, to boot.  Rhys couldn’t help but be excited about it.

Nathan piloted the vessel as if he’d done it a million times before.  Rhys considered that; he may have, since he was one of Jack and Ianto’s family, and were immortal.  He hadn’t asked either Cadi or Brina about Nathan’s age.  Now that he thought about it Rhys realised that he might seem young, but that looks were deceiving.  Nathan could have been anywhere from the teenager he looked to thousands of years old.

He wondered if it was crass to ask.

He decided it didn’t really matter to him how old Nathan truly was.

The sunlight penetrated the water, illuminating strange fish that swam and darted around them, their colours bright and flashing in the diffused light.  Rhys couldn’t help but watch as a larger fish, this one about the size of an Earth dolphin but a deep red, come right up to the submarine and match their speed. It winked at him when it noticed he was staring, and then with a flick of its powerful tail was gone into the depths.

Rhys couldn’t help but laugh.

“That’s one of the native species here,” Nathan explained, a smile on his face. “There are two of them on Madrina: the ocean dwelling Sygnars, and the air breathing Tegnari.  Both are really friendly races, and they’re on good terms with the Human Empire.  It was the Sygnars that are sponsoring Morgan’s concerts here, since they’re really big on music.”

So were dragons, Rhys knew that.  He’d been to enough karaoke bars with the team to know that.  It didn’t surprise him one bit that a child of Ianto Jones was some sort of singing star. 

“Morgan is pretty famous, but being invited to Madrina is an honour,” Nathan went on.  He shifted the yoke forward, and the submarine’s nose dipped.  “You’ll get to see one of her performances before we leave.  I hope you don’t mind.”

“Nope,” he answered.  “I can’t sing a note but I do appreciate good music.”

Nathan grinned.  “Grandtad isn’t much into it, but he’s proud all the same.  And being on tour gives me a chance to see places I’ve never been.  Dad was quite a wanderer when Nicole and I were young, but he’s pretty well settled now that he’s found his mate.  I think I get the wanderlust from him.”

Rhys was listening, but he also couldn’t help sightseeing through the clear hatch as the submarine headed downward.  It got a bit darker the farther down they travelled, but it was still awe-inspiring to be on a world alien to him, witnessing life swim about them as they dove toward their destination.

It was obvious where they were heading; the lights of what had to be some sort of city glowed from the depths, illuminating the sea floor and the fish and other creatures flowing about the towers and buildings that beckoned them forward.  To Rhys’ surprise there was no sort of dome over the bright structures before them; a series of walkways connected them to each other, and as they got even closer Rhys could make out the smaller buildings that made up the base of the city.  It was almost as if an island with its own populace has sunk beneath the waves, to rest on the flat plain of the ocean floor below.

“That’s Reefside Resort,” Nathan answered Rhys’ unspoken questions.  “It’s one of the largest entertainment venues on the planet.  The Sygnars are the prime caretakers, but the Tegnari run things within the habitat.  They have acts wanting to book here years in advance, but it’s always by invitation.  To be asked to perform for either race is an honour, like I said.  Morgan had been shocked when they asked her to come here.”

“But she’s that good, yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” Nathan said.  “She loves getting up on stage and singing in front of a crowd, but being here…it’s the top of the heap.  Anything she does from now on she can say that she performed here, and her music sales will go through the roof.  Not that it hadn’t already, but this was the icing on the cake.”

The city – the _resort_ – kept getting closer, and Rhys could make out even more details. The towers must have been where the guests stayed; he could actually make out people through the windows.  There was a rounded building in the centre of the resort, and Rhys guessed that was where the concerts were held, since it resembled a large coliseum or a theatre.  Even though it was shorter than the towers, it was obviously larger than both of them combined. 

Nathan turned the submarine to circle the vast venue, giving Rhys an even better look at the coliseum.  It didn’t have any windows, but there was an enormous, clear dome over the performance area, and Rhys wondered if the Sygnars watched from outside since they were water breathers.  

Nathan was piloting them toward another building, this one looking to be about six storeys tall, although it was hard to tell without it having any windows.  There was a single large opening in the middle of the structure, and Nathan aimed right for it, passing through with plenty of room to spare.  Beyond, there was a tunnel with branches leading up and down, and the young man took one of the upward tunnels and into a large room that had several small docks poking out from the wall.

Their submarine fit right beside one of them perfectly, bobbing to the surface of the water.  There was a faint hiss, and then Nathan was unfastening his seat belt, acknowledging someone in his headset and then slipping it off to loop it over the steering yoke.  “Morgan has a room for you,” he said, getting up from his seat.  “I’ll take you there.  You can get cleaned up, and there are some clothes there for you.  Then we can all get together for dinner.”  He took one step as Rhys was unsnapping his own restraint, and then turned back around.  “Is it true you knew my grandparents back when they were really really young?”

“Yep,” Rhys said, getting to his feet as well.

The brilliant smile was back.  “Great!  I can’t wait to hear stories about them back then.  The more embarrassing, the better!”

He couldn’t help but laugh.  “I’m not sure my life is worth it!”

“You _do_ know them!”

Rhys laughed harder at that.

Together, they clambered out of the sub and onto the dock, which was a sort of concrete that had been painted with a brightly coloured mural depicting an underwater scene with a school of fish forming a large “R” near the middle.  It was fairly tacky in Rhys’ opinion, but he didn’t say anything as Nathan led him out of the dock and into a lift that opened into what had to have been the main area of the resort.  Beings dressed in what had to have been holiday clothes wove through the expensive furnishings, under a vast skylight that showed off to great effect the ocean outside.  Every once in a while one of the red dolphin-like Sygnars would swim by, but it was the one that floated across the vast lobby, surrounded by water that bobbed like a bubble around it, that had Rhys’ mouth falling open.

“Force field,” Nathan answered the silent question.  “It’s how they survive offworld, too.  One of my professors at Luna University was a Sygnar.”

There was also a scattering of another race, all wearing what resembled a uniform with its sea-green coat and brilliantly white trousers.  Each of them had a stylised “R” emblazoned on the breast. 

The sea-green of the fabric coordinated with the pale yellow of the beings’ skin.  Their eyes were dark, more pupil than iris, and took up almost a third of the face.  The nose was just a stub, but the wide mouth more than made up for it.  The strangest thing about them, though, was the extra pair of arms that each of them sported, moving gracefully as they helped various tourists with luggage and other things. 

Rhys figured these were the Tegnari, the second race on Madrina.  There was something about them that seemed to fit amongst the water-dwelling Sygnars, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.  It just felt obvious to him that they both lived on the same planet.

Nathan took him across the lobby to a bank of lifts, their burnished doors with the same logo as the Tegnari wore.  “Like I said,” Nathan explained as they waited, “the Reefside Resort is close to being the largest resort on the planet.  Lots of acts are booked through here, so there’s a waiting list to get in to stay here.  We wouldn’t have been able to get you a room, except one of the guys in the crew volunteered to move in with someone…although, if you ask me,” he added slyly, “it wasn’t much of a hardship.  I told Morgan I didn’t mind sharing, but she thought you might appreciate having your own space after everything that’s happened.”

A soft chime interrupted Nathan, and the lift doors slid open silently.  It was just as posh as the rest of the resort, with its glass sides that showed the ocean outside.  “As long as there’s no water leaks,” Rhys teased, watching the outside go by, “I’ll be fine.”

That comment made Nathan laugh even harder than ever.  “Oh no, there wouldn’t be anything as crass as a water leak within a Madrina resort!”

He said it loud enough that one of the Tegnari looked absolutely scandalised, just before the doors shut and the lift headed upward.  Rhys snickered.  He couldn’t help it.

 

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

 

**_15 June 5119 (Earth Standard Date)_ **

**_Madrina_ **

 

 

Rhys didn’t meet Morgan Jones until after a nap.

Nathan came to fetch him for dinner, the shirt he was wearing more eye-watering than the last.  It didn’t help that the outfits left for Rhys to wear also tended to wander into the tacky category, but it didn’t take him long to figure out that these were the ‘uniforms’ of everyone involved with the musical tour. 

The young man had taken one look at Rhys and said, “At least it’s not what Aunt Morgan and the band wear onstage.  That’s all violent colours, glitter, and fairy wings.”

“Wait, what?” Rhys demanded, startled at anyone in the Harkness-Jones family using the word “fairy” with such honest disregard.  He’d seen the Fae, and it wasn’t something he was likely to ever forget.

“Oh!” Nathan seemed to realise just what Rhys was on about.  He wondered if the kid was psychic or something.  “No, not _those_ fairies…these are the animated ones that are famous all over the galaxies.  You know…the fluffy, friendly ones.  Not the capricious, war-mongering sadists you’re familiar with.  Those we all know about,” and he shuddered melodramatically, “and trust me, Morgan would never tease about _those_.”

Rhys took a deep breath, nodding.  Of course he should have known that any child of Jack and Ianto would have a very thorough understanding of the Fae and what they represented.

They took the lift up one floor.  Rhys thought that there would be another corridor like there had been on his floor, lined with doors that had been painted the same green shade as the employee’s uniforms.  Instead, the doors opened up onto a massive room, pale green and cream walls with sea creature motifs and one massive window looking out onto the sea beyond.  Furnishings were the same hues as the walls, and they were plush; Rhys was afraid to sit on one of the sofas out of concern that he might be lost within the cushions.  The tables were made from a light wood and had plants sitting on them in what resembled terra cotta pots.  There were two doors leading off the main area, which had to have been bedrooms.

“Hello!” the female voice called out from one side of the room, where what resembled a minibar had been set up.

The woman who came out from behind the bar had the unmistakable mixture of Jack and Ianto’s features that marked all of their children so far.  Her brown hair was cut into a short bob, something that Rhys thought would have been called a ‘pixie cut’ back in his time, but he couldn’t be sure.  She was tall and willowy, graceful as she crossed the room to engulf Rhys in a welcoming hug. 

“Welcome to the future!” she exclaimed, leaning back but keeping her hands on his shoulders.  “I’m Morgan…but I’m sure you already knew that.  It’s so nice to meet you!”

Rhys couldn’t take her greeting with any sort of suspicion; she was just too sincere.  “Thanks,” he answered, returning her bright smile with one just a little less brilliant. 

To his surprise, Morgan was wearing plain clothes: what had to have been the future version of yoga pants and t-shirt, both in understated colours.  He’d expected her to have on clothing that was at least as flamboyant as Nathan’s. 

But then, he was certain she only wore that sort of thing on stage.  A part of him wished he could prepare his corneas for that palette onslaught.

“I’m sorry you got caught up in all that on Andrala,” she went on, tugging on his arm in order to get him to walk toward one of the man-eating sofas.  “I’m just glad Phillip found out and sent Cadi and Sabrina to get you out of there.”

“So am I,” he admitted, taking the offered seat with a faint feeling of dread.  It was just as soft as he’d thought, but the cushions didn’t devour him. 

Thank goodness.

“I’ve ordered up dinner,” Morgan went on, plopping down beside him and tucking a bare foot up under herself.  “Don’t worry, I’ve ordered things that you can eat.  Some of the more exotic cuisine might not agree with you.”

“They have an excellent beer here, though,” Nathan but in.  He was perched up on the back of one of the armchairs, his feet firmly planted in the seat cushion. 

Rhys did notice that Morgan seemed to have more of the Welsh pronunciation in her words, more than her sisters had.  It was nice to hear it; it reminded him of Wales.  He wondered what had happened there, however he’d been a bit too scared to ask. He didn’t want to know how much his former home had changed.

He’d just decided to ask just how old Nathan was – was he old enough to be drinking? – when there was a chime from the lift.  Nathan sprang up from his chair and went to answer it, the doors remaining firmly closed to whoever it was inside. 

“You have to have an approved bio-print in order to get up here,” Morgan said.  “Right now the suite is primed for me, Nathan, and a handful of others.  I’d make sure you were as well, but this is our last performance tonight so it wouldn’t really matter.” She grinned.  “I was actually scheduled to leave yesterday, but the Sygnar Entertainment Council asked that I stay for more performances. I told them I would extend my stay by one night, but after that I needed to go home to be with my family.  Since the Sygnars are family oriented, they completely understood.”

“I really appreciate it,” Rhys said earnestly. 

Anything else he might have said was interrupted by Nathan pushing a cart next to the sofa, laden with covered plates and glasses.  A wonderful smell was rising from it, and Rhys heard his stomach grumble.  Nathan maneuvered the cart so that both Morgan and Rhys could reach without stretching, and then tugged an ottoman over so he could sit close enough to eat and not drop food all over the floor.

Trays were removed, and the smell got stronger.  Rhys found himself reaching for something that looked like a chicken wing, bit into it…and had to stifle his moan of joy over the fact that it did, in fact, taste exactly like chicken.

He didn’t know what he’d been expecting from future dining, but chicken wasn’t it.

The three of them were silent as they ate.  Rhys was totally unsurprised at the appetites of his companions.  After all, he’d seen Ianto demolish enough food for a family, all part of his dragon metabolism.  It just wasn’t fair that none of them could gain weight.  Even Jack could pack a bit on, but as soon as he died he’d just lose the pounds. 

As a diet plan, getting yourself killed didn’t even rank in the top one million.

“I’ll need to get ready soon,” Morgan said, after they’d finished stuffing their faces.  “The concert will run late, and you’re not obligated to be there.  I know you’ve been through a lot in the last several days – “

“No way would I miss it,” Rhys averred, “although I can’t guarantee I’ll make it all the way through.”  He was tired, but not that tired.  Besides, he was curious about the type of music Morgan performed, even if she wore ‘glitter and fairy wings’ as Nathan had put it.

The smile he received at that was sweet.  “I hope you enjoy yourself.  And, if you do get too tired, Nathan can always bring you back up to your room.  Although he should have given you the key…”

“He did,” Rhys said before Nathan could protest.  “And I’m sure I can find my way back if he doesn’t want to leave.”

“I like the music,” Nathan admitted, “but I’ve now heard the same songs now for two standard weeks.  I’m sure I won’t miss too much if I leave for a short while.”

“We probably won’t leave until later in the planetary day tomorrow,” Morgan added.  “I have an appointment with the Entertainment Council in the morning, and it’ll take a large part of the day to get everything loaded onto our transports.  Since I have my own ship I could probably leave before the transports are done, but I always like to make sure we don’t forget anything.”  She shrugged.  “Pretty sure I get that from my Tad.”

Rhys shook his head, amused.  “I think that goes without saying.”

 


	10. Chapter 10

 

**_15 June 5119 (Earth Standard Date)_ **

**_Gliese 581g (Hubworld)_ **

 

 

_“It’s a good thing Phillip warned me,”_ Steven Rogers VII, Grand Master of the Imperial Shieldsmen, said from the holographic display in the Director’s office in Torchwood Tower.  _“We received the complaint from the Andralan representative first thing this morning.”_

Ianto stood behind the Director’s chair, which Phillip had offered to give up to Jack, since he was the Director in Perpetuity, but Jack had snorted and practically shoved their son-by-mating into it when the call had come through from the Imperial Throneworld.  Together, he and Jack flanked Torchwood’s current Director, adding their support instead of usurping his authority.

Steve hadn’t changed much in the years since Phillip had retired from the Shieldsmen and had taken up the position as Torchwood’s Director.  He very closely resembled his ancestor, Captain America; he had blond hair and blue eyes, and a physique that could intimidate even the largest humans and aliens.  Ianto knew, though, that the Super Soldier serum-based enhancements were slowly being bred out of the Rogers line, each succeeding generation’s extended lifespan growing shorter and the healing benefits fading.

Still, Steve was impressive in his all black uniform.  Ianto was mated, but he could appreciate a fine form.  He certainly knew Jack did, judging from the flirting he’d do in Steve’s direction every time they met.  Steve, of course, would ignore it to the best of his ability.

He’d gotten quite good at it, really.

“What did the representative have to say?” Phillip inquired, his fingers steepled in front of him.  He had a frown on his face as he digested what Steve was telling them.

_“Only what he told you: that he accused Torchwood of sending a spy onto Andrala and demanded the return of Mr Williams for trial. Pretty much what you expected.”_

“And what was the Emperor’s reaction to it?” Ianto asked. 

Steve chuckled.  _“Oh, he kicked it back to Torchwood.  His rebuttal was a thing of beauty.  I’ll make sure you get a copy with the official file, but the gist of it was ‘if you’d bothered to translate what you tortured out of that poor man you would have realised he was a spacio-temporal event and it would have been under Torchwood’s jurisdiction anyway’._ I was there when he dictated it, and His Imperial Majesty laughed most of the way though.”

Jack snorted, and Ianto couldn’t help but roll his eyes.  It just, once again, proved that His Imperial Majesty was a man of taste, good humour, and intelligence.  Rhys, having been snatched up by the old Cardiff Rift, did indeed fall under Torchwood’s purview.  It was just that they’d known immediately that the Andralan government wouldn’t have listened to them if they’d requested Rhys’ return through normal channels.  Now, they could at least keep Rhys out of danger while they negotiated things.

_“I also included a copy of that transmission,”_ Steve went on.  _“I know you would already have one yourselves, but this one has the Imperial seal on it.  I take it you’re going to adjudication?”_

“You’d be correct,” Phillip answered.  “Now that we have Rhys out of Andralan hands, we can take care of everything else.”

“We’ve already contacted the Adjudicator’s Guild,” Ianto went on.  “They’re going to have someone on standby, for when we call.”  It didn’t hurt that their son, Alun, was an Adjudicator with an excellent reputation.  Not that he would be assigned the case, Alun would be considered compromised due to his familial connections, but he had enough knowledge of how Torchwood worked that he could give whoever did take over advice on their procedures. 

_“The Andralan don’t have the ground to stand on in this circumstance,”_ Steve said reassuringly.  _“They used a mind probe, for Goddess’ sake, and then didn’t even bother to check a translation of what Mr Williams was saying.”_

“The Andralan don’t make a lot of sense at the best of times,” Jack agreed.  “We all know just how paranoid they are.”

“And we can guess that they used the mind probe in order to get Rhys to ‘slip up’ and say something that wasn’t in a fairly dead language,” Ianto added.  It made more sense the more he thought if it, just seeming like something the Andralan would do.

“To be a bit fair,” Phillip replied, “Old Earth English really _is_ almost a dead language.  However, all the Andralan would have had to do was contact a linguistic expert to help, but there really aren’t all that many out there who would have been able to help.”

_“They wouldn’t have thought that far ahead, Phillip,”_ Steve said.  _“They’re too wrapped up in their own paranoia to trust anyone to help.”_

Not for the first time, Ianto wished that Rhys had been deposited on either Indira or Halistra.  At least on one of the other planets the natives would have tried to figure out what was going on before condemning an innocent man without proof.

_“I need to get back on duty,”_ Steve said.  _“We have some representatives from Draconia coming in today, and it’s all hands on deck.”_

“That’s going to be fun,” Phillip said dryly.

He was right, of course.  The Draconians were a warrior-like race, and trouble seemed to follow them.  Ianto had once wondered if they’d had dragon blood in them, but that had proved not to be the case.  While they had myths of ‘a strange, horned beast’, it had not been anything even vaguely dragon, which had disappointed Ianto.  There had been some conflicts between the Human Empire and the Draconian Empire back in the twenty-sixth century, but they’d been allies ever since they’d patched things up between their Empires. 

Rumour had it that the Doctor had been on hand for those particular negotiations.  Ianto believed it.

_“Keep me informed, alright?  I’m looking forward to meeting Mr Williams.”_ With that, Steve signed off, and the holovid screen rose back up into the ceiling.

Phillip leaned back in his chair, swivelling it so he faced Jack and Ianto.  “Rhys should be here in about a little over a standard week, including Morgan’s scheduled stop on Dahlnia Prime.  We really need to have all this worked out before he arrives.”

“Agreed,” Jack said.  “I don’t want to have this hanging over his head.  He’s been through enough already.”

“And,” Ianto added, “at some point we’re going to have to let him know he didn’t return to his own time.  I don’t know how he’s going to take that.”  Rhys was strong and resilient, but there were only so many things a person could deal with.  Losing everything he’d known would be rough on him, although at least he’d have support to help him adapt.

The door opened, and Bratsk stuck hir head in, this time wearing a form that it took Ianto a few seconds to recognise.  When he did, he looked at Phillip, who just sighed and turned his chair back around.  “It’s the Andralan representative, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir,” the Zygon answered, a smirk twisting the goatee hir human form was wearing.

“Put them through.”  He sighed.  “That was fast.”

Bratsk nodded, closing the door once more.

“Tony Stark?” Ianto asked incredulously.  “Really?”

Phillip just shrugged as the holovid lowered once more. 

Jack and Ianto, not even saying anything, moved around to the back of the display once more.  Being witnesses to what was about to happen would be enough; neither one of them wanted to distract Phillip from this call. Still, Phillip had a point: it was fast.  The Andralan government couldn’t have gone through the files the Empire had passed along already, if Steve was right about them having been sent not that long ago.  For Ianto, that just proved that the Andralan were going to be intractable about their insistence on getting Rhys back.

He just had to wait and see how this conversation went.

“Good afternoon,” Phillip greeted the Andralan representative pleasantly.  “How may Torchwood help you today?”

_“We demand the return of your spy, Torchwood,”_ the Andralan said, almost hissing his words.

“He’s not a spy,” Phillip rebutted, “and if you’d bother to have read the Emperor’s response to your complaint, you would know that.”

_“We should trust someone who simply ignores planetary autonomy?”_

Ianto knew Phillip Coulson, and knew how placid he could be in the face of idiocy, but he was especially proud of his son-by-mating in that moment.  The Andralan representative was being particularly obtuse, and Phillip didn’t suffer fools gladly.

“Planetary autonomy doesn’t play into this,” Phillip pointed out.  “If you had read through the documents, you would have seen that your so-called prisoner was declared, in fact, to be a spacio-temporal event, and that means it was under Torchwood jurisdiction.  Your Dictator signed the Imperial Accords; you would be expected to follow them.”

_“He carried your symbol – “_

“Once again,” Phillip rolled right over the objection, “if you had read the transcript of your ‘questioning’ of this man you would have known that it was a past version of Torchwood.  In fact, he was quite forthcoming with his information.  It’s hardly our fault that you disregarded that entire confession in order to pass around the blame.  As I understand, you first accused the Indirans.”

_“That is not your concern,”_ the Andralan snapped. 

“I can see only one way to settle this.  That is to have an Adjudicator look at the evidence and make a ruling based on that.”

The Andralan representative went silent.  Ianto knew that Phillip had him over the proverbial barrel: the Andralan had to either accept the Adjudication, which would obviously be ruled in Torchwood’s favour with the evidence they had and the Imperial Accords that every planet even slightly affiliated with the Human Empire was asked to sign; or, they would have to give up the case, which meant that their so-called claim on Rhys was null and void. 

Either way, Rhys would be coming home with Jack and Ianto.

_“We do not trust that you would abide by the Adjudicator’s ruling,”_ the Andralan finally answered.

“As I fully expect the Adjudicator to rule in our favour,” Phillip shrugged, “I have nothing at all to lose so why be underhanded?”

Even from the back, Ianto could tell just how angry the Andralan was.  _“And yet you stole him from us!”_

“You have absolutely no proof of that,” Phillip went on relentlessly.  “It is entirely possible that he managed to escape on his own.”

_“That is impossible!  Our cells are escape-proof!”_

“I would say not, since he did get away from you.”

The Andralan was seething.  _“We reserve the right to contract a translator for the case.  We do not trust what was sent to us.”_

“I have absolutely no objection to that.” Phillip’s calm was only irritating the Andrala further.  It really was a work of art in Ianto’s opinion.  “We shall also bring one of our own.  Will you contact the Adjudicator’s Guild, or shall I?”

_“We will,”_ Andralan spat.  He disconnected the call without warning, and the holovid went blank.

“Well,” Phillip said lightly, “that was fun.”

Jack barked a laugh.  “I think we all have different definitions of the word ‘fun’, Phillip.”

“Depends on the context,” he answered, winking.

Ianto spluttered in surprise.  Phillip had obviously been spending too much time around Jack…or at least, Clint, if he was actually teasing Jack like that.  Ianto could recall when Phillip had had a sense of humour that had been far too dry for many people to grasp.  That had seemed to have changed with age.

Jack clapped Phillip on the shoulder, grinning like a maniac.  “You have a point!”

“Alright,” Ianto cut in, hiding his own grin and wanting to get the two of them back on focus.  “Do any of us really think the Andralan are going to back down?”

Phillip shook his head.  “They’ve come too far.”

“Phillip’s right,” Jack said.  “If they back down now they’ll only lose face.  When the case goes against them, though, they can back down gracefully.”

Ianto nodded.  The same reasoning had come to him as well.  “Then, Phillip, you’ll need to prepare for an Adjudication hearing.”

“We have all the paperwork ready,” the current Director answered.  “We just need to contact our chosen interpreter and have them on point for the inevitable meeting.”

“You have someone in mind?” Jack asked.

“I do.”  Phillip swivelled his chair slightly, facing the computer interface module where it was imbedded in the wooden surface.  He waved his hand over it, and a keyboard slid out of its recess within the desktop.  His fingers moved along the keys as the monitor also activated, illuminating the part of the desk next to the keyboard.  It wasn’t as flashy as the holotable, but it worked for small-scale tasks.  “We have just the person listed in Torchwood’s consultant records.  I doubt he’ll object to the job.” 

When the consultant’s likeness appeared on the monitor, Ianto laughed.

Phillip turned his seat to look up at the amused dragon, his face lighting up in a smug smirk.  “Ifan Jones, Professor of Earth Medieval History.  Like I said, I don’t believe he’ll object helping out Torchwood.”

Professor Ifan Jones had been Ianto’s alias for the last couple of decades; he’d even given lectures under the name at Luna University at the prompting of his daughter, Rowena ap Llyn, herself an instructor there.  There’d been that time that he’d even been kidnapped under that name by a Time Agent who’d turned out to be the pre-immortal version of his own mate, but that had led them to the five foundlings that were as dear to them as their own children were. 

“No,” Ianto sighed, mock put-upon, “I don’t think Professor Jones would object.”

“This will get you into the arbitration,” Jack added.  “You can best keep an eye out for anything the Andralan might try.”

Jack made a valid point.  Ianto, being present as Professor Ifan Jones, could monitor things on Rhys’ behalf; be more of an advocate for him than anyone else besides Phillip.  

“Who do you think the Andralan will get for their translator?” he asked, leaving his acceptance as given.

“Well, there aren’t that many out there who can speak Old Earth English,” Jack said.  “Anyone they would ask would more than likely be a member of the family even if the Andralan didn’t know it.”

“Or else they could go with a computer translator,” Phillip opined.  “A computer can’t be bribed or bullied into translating Rhys’ words in a way that they don’t want.  Anything that comes from a computer has to be the truth.”

“I’m not sure the Andralan see it that way,” Jack mused.  “They’re horribly paranoid, Goddess knows why, and while a computer might be a good thing for some, to them it would just be something that a person against them could reprogram.  No, I’d bet my next death that they’ll call someone that they’ll check out thoroughly first, to ensure they’re above reproach.”

“We’ll just have to wait and see.” Phillip rose from his chair.  “For now, I’m going to assume that any sort of meeting is going to be held via holosuite, so I’d better ask Bratsk to make sure to block out one for use.  Jack, I’d try to get you into the meeting as well…”

“That’s fine,” Jack waved his hand negligently.  “You know me…I’m more likely to put my foot into it and make a mess of things, especially since it’s about an old friend of mine I thought was long dead.  One of us should get back to Ddraig Llyn anyway.  I’m sure Mom’s been driven mad by the hellions by now.”

Jack’s mother, Dr Samara Wells, had been a Goddess-blessed inclusion in their lives for several years now, and they’d had no hesitation at all in leaving the younger children in her care.  But Jack had a point; while Alyce, their youngest, would have been fine at being left with her Gran, the five orphans – even though they were all dealing so much better than they had before Samara had arrived –  could still get antsy if either Jack or Ianto were gone too long.  As it had been several days now, they must have been bugging Samara with their questions and demands.  And while Samara hadn’t called them, knowing what they were doing was important, neither Ianto nor his mate wanted to stress her out too much. 

Ianto thought that bringing Samara back to Jack had been the best gift he’d ever been able to give his mate.

Besides, Jack did have a point.  Diplomacy had never been his strong suit, usually leaving that sort of thing to Ianto when they’d been running Torchwood.  His mate had an impetuous nature and was less than charitable when it came to dealing with idiots.  If Jack respected a person, he was more likely to be polite and listen to what they had to say.  However, if they were being more than a little stupid, like the Andralan were at the moment, Jack would more often than not piss them off by treating them like beings with only half a brain and no sense at all.  And Ianto had it on very good authority – as he was an eyewitness – that a Jack confronted with idiocy was a snarky and sarcastic Jack, and one that nobody wanted to be around.

Ianto, though, was much more diplomatic.  There had been a reason that the dragon had been the favourite of just about every ruler and planetary leader Torchwood had had to deal with in its long history.

It was a good thing that Phillip was much more of a calming presence on the whole.  And he also had something else going for him: the fact that he could look very ineffectual…until he hit a person over the head with the proverbial sledgehammer.  It was one of the current Director’s greatest strengths: to make people completely disregard him, and it was only too late when whoever was in an argument with him had decided that yes, he was in the wrong and that he should agree with whatever Phillip was saying because it made the most sense. 

It was impressive.

“I think I might come home with you,” Ianto said.  “I can be back here by transmat in no time at all, once the Andralan decide what they’re going to do.”

Phillip was nodding.  “This has kept you both from home long enough.  I can take things from here, and I’ll call as soon as I know when the Adjudication is scheduled.”

“Come on,” Jack cajoled, slipping his arm around Ianto’s waist, “let’s get out of here and see just what the spawn have done to drive their Gran crazy.”

Ianto rolled his eyes.  Samara Wells was a strong-willed woman, but one could only stand their children for so long.

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

 

**_16 June 5119 (Earth Standard Date)_ **

**_Madrina_ **

 

****

Rhys was awake, showered, and dressed in the least eye-injuring outfit he had in his closet when there was a knock on his hotel room door.

He wasn’t at all surprised to see Nathan breeze in, carrying a bag from which something wonderful smelled.  “Good morning!” the young man greeted, grinning.  “I brought breakfast just in case you hadn’t called down for anything yet.”

Rhys didn’t even have to speak; his stomach did it for him by rumbling loudly.  Nathan snickered then took a seat on the sofa, putting the bag down on the coffee table.  Rhys joined him as he began digging items out from it.  There were several wrapped things that Rhys took to be some sort of breakfast sandwich, along with two sealed cups that were obviously coffee. 

“Thanks mate,” he said, reaching for one of the cups.  He slipped the lid off and inhaled the wonderful scent of well-made coffee.  “You are a lifesaver.”  He’d been wondering about breakfast, since no one had bothered to clue him in last night on how to do that.  Nathan had stopped him from making a fool out of himself by attempting to figure it out on his own.

“We have a two standard hours before we check out,” Nathan said, helping himself to one of the wrapped objects.  It did turn out to be a form of sandwich, with meat, cheese, and what resembled an egg but was blue in colour in between two pieces of thick bread.  They looked amazing.  “Morgan is off overseeing the packing up of all our equipment, and she asked me to come up and keep you company until we had to leave.”

“Thanks again.  I would’ve gone off my nut waiting up here by myself.”  He took a sip of coffee, and while it couldn’t meet the expectations Rhys had after being served Ianto Jones’ miracle coffee for so many years, it wasn’t bad at all.  He then set the cup down and grabbed one of the sandwiches, tugging off the paper wrapping and taking a huge bite.  It was every bit as good as it looked. The meat was slightly spicier that what he’d expected but the tangy cheese and fluffy egg balanced it out, plus the bread had its own different flavour, almost like it had some sort of fruit baked into it.

Nathan nodded.  “If you mean you would’ve gone crazy, then I get it.  Although, I think my impatience and your experience are two completely different things.”

“Yeah,” Rhys answered after swallowing.  “For me, it’s more like not knowing what I can and can’t do, or not trusting that I won’t get lost if I start wandering around.”  While he was really enjoying the newness of his surroundings, there was still that part of him that was freaked out by the fact that he was in the future, and that he really had no clue what the hell he was doing.

“You wouldn’t have to worry about getting lost around here,” Nathan assured him.  “What you’re wearing would be enough to let any of the resort staff know that you’re with Morgan and her crew.  And, now that you have your translator, they’d be able to understand if you asked for directions, and you’d understand them.”

Rhys reached up and touched his ear, having completely forgotten about the tiny device in his ear canal.  “Oh, yeah.”

To Nathan’s credit, he didn’t laugh at Rhys’ brain fart.  “You’ll get used to it.  It’ll just take time, and when we get back to Hubworld it’ll be easier with Torchwood and my Granddad and Grandtad there to help.  At least they’ll be familiar to you.”

This was true.  Rhys had so many questions about the future he’d probably take months to ask them all. 

But there were still some things that he thought he could ask his new friend. 

“I did have a few things I wanted to know,” he said, taking another of the breakfast sandwiches.  He hadn’t even realised he’d wolfed down the first one.

“Sure,” Nathan encouraged him.  He snagged the last sandwich.

“Last night during the concert, I heard a couple of the workers calling you and Morgan ‘Star Dragons’…” It had confused him at first, because it had come out of nowhere.  Rhys didn’t have any idea what it meant, because Ianto had never claimed such a thing; in fact, Ianto’s dragon form had always had a firm alignment with the Great Earth Dragon. 

Nathan looked surprised, his eyes widening.  “You mean Aunts Cadi and Brina didn’t explain that?”

“They explained a lot of things about the future, but not that.  What does it mean?”

The young man sighed, slumping back against the arm of the sofa.  “Well, it’s really Aunt Anwyn’s fault that we’re called that, but Arthur was the one who kept it up, especially when he changed the Torchwood logo and he got his own dragon form…”

“And that’s another thing on the list,” Rhys interrupted.  “What’s this getting a dragon form thing?  I mean, Ianto was born a dragon, so I’d’ve thought his kids would have had one too.”

“That’s easier to explain than the Star Dragon thing, actually.  The kids born from Granddad Jack are all born with human forms, and gain their dragon forms when they find a mate.  My Dad didn’t get his dragon form for about sixteen hundred years, when he met Phillip again.  Aunt Morgan doesn’t have hers yet, and neither do my other Aunts Kaitlyn, Pryce, and Alyce…although Aunt Alyce is only seventeen and not ready to look for a mate yet.  Grandtad Ianto says she’s not allowed to date for at least another hundred years.”

That sounded like something Ianto would say. “So,” Rhys mused, “any child that Ianto has are born with their dragon forms then?”

Nathan nodded.  “Yep, that’s right.  My Aunts Rowena and Cadi and my Uncles Gareth and Alun were all born dragons.  Oh, and my second cousin Rory, he was also born a dragon, but like I said Arthur has had his dragon form like forever now…”

There was something else Nathan wasn’t saying, but Rhys let it go for now.  He was sure Nathan would say something if it was important.  “Okay, so what about this Star Dragon thing?”

“Alright.”  Nathan took a deep breath.  “So, Aunt Anwyn grew up in Torchwood, and she became a ship owner pretty early on.  Her first spaceship was called the _Star Dragon_ , and she did a lot of good work in it, so much so that she became pretty well famous.  When Aunts Rowena and Cadi were old enough, they travelled with Aunt Anwyn a bit, and since they already had their dragon forms they were nicknamed after the ship, you know?  Because when the _Star Dragon_ showed up, people believed everything was gonna be alright.  Even Granddad and Grandtad would go with them at times, but Grandtad was already known as the Torchwood Dragon, so it didn’t so much stay with him as it did with my Aunts.  Besides, by then he and Granddad were retired and weren’t looking for any sort of attention like that.”

That actually made sense.  Of course Rhys had been aware of the notoriety of the Torchwood Dragon, since he’d been sighted at Thames House during that shit with the chanting children, and then had gone on to fight with the Avengers when the Cybermen had attacked the United States so soon after the Battle of New York.  It had bothered Jack to know that more and more people were beginning to find out about Ianto’s secret, and hadn’t wanted that knowledge to get into the wrong hands.

Although, he was pretty amused by the fact that Ianto was still called that, even this far into the future.

“Well, during one job that Anwyn and Cadi had been on, the _Star Dragon_ was attacked by pirates and would have been destroyed if the Doctor hadn’t shown up.  Still, the ship was pretty well wrecked, and Anwyn decided to junk her and get another one, which this time she called a different name…I don’t even know what it was, to be honest.  So the _Star Dragon_ name sort of faded away.

“But then Arthur and Merlin took over Torchwood.  Arthur thought it was a good idea to incorporate a dragon into the Torchwood symbol, as a sort of memorial for Granddad and Grandtad’s centuries of service, but also because it was part of his coat of arms back when he’d been King of Albion…did either Aunt Cadi or Aunt Brina tell you about all the reincarnation stuff?”

Rhys nodded.  He’d really wanted to disbelieve it, but he’d been around magic far too much to completely discount reincarnation.  Although the fact that Arthur Harkness-Jones had, in fact, been the legendary King Arthur of the Round Table and his mate, Merlin, had been the reincarnation of _that_ Merlin…well…he’d really had to think about that because it had just seemed so bloody crazy even for Rhys’ experience.

“Okay,” Nathan went on, “glad I don’t have to explain that!  It even does my head in, and my Dad was reincarnated from some sort of Torchwood hero back in the twenty-first century!  Which reminds me, you still have to tell me some embarrassing stories about my grandparents.”

“Oh don’t worry,” Rhys assured him, “I have quite a few of them.  Even some about your Dad’s previous life if you’re interested.”

The grin that lit up Nathan’s face could have powered old Cardiff for a solid year.  “Fantastic!  Alright, to go on…anyway, with Anwyn off doing good deeds and Rowena and Cadi doing their thing, and my Dad and then Uncle Gareth having been born and Dad being a famous adventurer and Uncle Gareth becoming a famous doctor…Arthur wanted to have people actually recognise his family for what they were, so he started talking about Star Dragons again and the rumours just started rolling along.  Even though Aunt Anwyn and Dad hadn’t gotten their dragon forms yet, Arthur made certain they were also included in the list of Star Dragons.  And the more that were born, their reputations just grew.  Uncle Alun is a well-respected Adjudicator; Aunt Emlyn is a model and a philanthropist; and of course Aunt Morgan is known all over the Twelve Galaxies…no one really knows Aunt Brina, because it’s important that no one does since she’s a Torchwood agent and all.  Aunt Kaitlyn is an ambassador who became well-known because she stopped a war that would’ve spilled out across the Empire and been a real mess.  Aunt Pryce…well, she has her own business,” Nathan snickered a bit, “and Grandtad doesn’t know about it because he really wouldn’t be very happy about it…”

Rhys had to wonder just what was so bad that Ianto wouldn’t like it, especially since Cadi was only well-known because she was a criminal wanted on so many planets she’d lost track. 

So he asked.

“Aunt Pryce owns a series of tea shops,” Nathan laughed.  “You know how Grandtad is about his coffee…”

Oh yes.  Rhys couldn’t help but laugh at the idea that the one person who made the best coffee anywhere would have a child who was in the tea business.  “No coffee at all?”

“Nope.  She doesn’t care for it. It’s only a matter of time before he finds out, because Aunt Pryce has shops on several different worlds and is becoming better known for her hiring practices and the fact that she has plantations on three different planets and always treats her employees well.”

That was completely brilliant, and said so.

“But anyway,” Nathan said, “we’re all Star Dragons now.  It doesn’t hurt that we each have a few different abilities than Grandtad, but he’s proud of us all.  So, when you hear someone talking about Star Dragons, now you know.  Which really is more than the majority of people out there can say.  They don’t know the story, only that we’re out there and that we always try to help when and where we can.”

“That sounds just like your grandparents,” Rhys said warmly.

Nathan’s smile was almost shy.  “It’s one of the reasons I like to travel so much.  I want to be able to help people out there, whoever I can find.  It also doesn’t hurt that Dad had us on the move for the majority of our lives, and while Nicole liked the idea of settling down after he found our third Dad, it’s just not me.  Can’t stand it when I have too much dirt on my boots, as it were.”

Rhys recalled that Jack had admitted to being like that at one point in his life, before he’d become immortal.  In a way, that sort of life had led him to the Doctor, who ultimately was partly responsible for Jack becoming a fixed point in time.  He’d also been told that Jack had once felt that his immortality was a curse, but since he’d mated with Ianto, that had changed.  Sure, he knew he’d lost those friends and family that weren’t long-lived, but Jack hadn’t had to face the pain of being alone any longer.  He had Ianto, and to a smaller extent Phil Coulson, and that he was happy that they could all help each other through the centuries they’d be alive. 

Rhys was almost pitifully glad that his friends were now surrounded by family that would, chances were, be alive as long as they would be.  Yes, he did know that they would still miss those who would pass on while they still lived, but at least there would be those who would still stand beside them when others are gone.

It made him think of the people he’d left behind, his friends and family and teammates.  All of them were dead now, and dust, except for the few that had travelled into the future the slow way and not by Rift like he had.  It really was the first time he’d sat back and considered them: Toshiko and Kathy, Owen and Diane, Patrick and Alice and the London team and the new ones that he hadn’t had a chance to really get to know yet.  Oh, and the friends in SHIELD: Melinda and Daisy, Mack and FitzSimmons, Bobbi and Hunter and everyone else he’d talked to and had gotten to know. 

He knew he could always ask Jack and Ianto, and Phil and Clint, but he wasn’t sure if he really wanted to.  Would it do any good to know the fates of his friends?  Would it make living in the future any easier?  Or would holding onto the memories he had make things harder?      

Something must have shown on his face, because Nathan’s expression changed to concern.  “You know you’re safe here, right?  That my family will look after you?”

“I know that,” Rhys reassured him.  “It’s just…a lot to take in.”

“We’ll get you there, don’t worry.  And…Granddad and Grandtad are gonna be so happy to see you.”

Rhys had no doubt of that.  He’d be glad to see Jack and Ianto as well. 

It was just that he was finally figuring out just how big a change this was.  It wasn’t exploring the future anymore; it was the idea that he was stranded there, and he really didn’t mind it at all.  He’d lost everything, and yet it didn’t feel like a big deal.  He wondered if he should be worried about that, and then decided no, that way led to him going off the deep end. 

No, the future was his.  He just had to figure out what he was going to do in it. 

That meant he had to get to Torchwood. 

He had to get to Jack and Ianto.

And then he would finally be free.

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Henry mentioned in this chapter is Henry Morgan, from the regrettably short-lived series "Forever". If you haven't seen it yet, I recommend it. 
> 
> Also, I'm going to be out of town Saturday so the next chapter won't be up until I get back.

 

**_17 June 5119 (Standard Earth Date)_ **

**_In hyperspace en-route to Dahlnia Prime_ **

****

The spaceship, the _Shining Star,_ that Morgan and her band flew around in was considerably larger and better appointed than Cadi’s _Free Wheeler_ had been.

Rhys wasn’t all that surprised.

What did surprise him was that he had an entire cabin to himself that was about the same size as his bedroom back in his old flat.  Also, while he hadn’t thought that Morgan would lie to him, when he found the more understated clothing in the small wardrobe he was eternally grateful to get out of the multi-coloured craziness that was the tour’s official costuming.                                         

There was going to be one last stop before getting to Hubworld, and Rhys had to admit he was getting a bit anxious about finally arriving at their final destination.  Yes, it was going to be nice to see his old bosses again – his old friends, really – but he was also ready to settle somewhere for a bit.  He was getting tired of the travelling.

He just didn’t see how Morgan and Nathan did it. 

Morgan had said that she’d considered cancelling this last concert date, but Rhys had told her he was fine.  And he hadn’t lied; he was just ready to stay in one place for a while.  But this event was important to her.  She’d told him about it, how the planet Dahlnia Prime had just suffered a major planetary disaster, and how several groups were getting together in order to help the inhabitants rebuild.  It was something that was close to Morgan’s heart; to aid people who needed it, in any way she could. 

Rhys could understand it.  It was one of the things that had impressed Rhys about working for Torchwood: they were out to help innocent people, whether they were from Earth or even from other planets.  Most of what they did was dangerous, but in the end what they did was always for the best.  He could see where Morgan had gotten it from.

They would only be staying one planetary day, just long enough to see what needed to be doing and to throw a concert that would have credits rolling into the affected regions.  From what Morgan and Nathan had said, the Dahlnians were a friendly race, always willing to help others, so it was only the right thing to do to turn that around and to go to the aid of a race that really didn’t have a selfish bone in their collective bodies.

He made his way toward the observation lounge, where he knew Morgan and Nathan would be.  This ship wasn’t like the _Free Wheeler_ at all, that it was built to carry more passengers over more space and for longer periods of time.  Most of the band, Starshine, didn’t really have any duties onboard; that was left to the crew, who ran things while Morgan’s people stayed out of their way.

As he’d been sure, both dragons were in the observation lounge.  It was called that because of the clear bubble that arced overhead, showing the streaking stars as they navigated through hyperspace toward their next destination.  There were tables and chairs about the area, enough places for the passengers aboard, and what looked like a minibar in one corner.  There was also a large entertainment screen, and that was where Nathan was, sprawled out on a pale blue sofa, his feet up on the arm, a bulb of what looked like some sort of carbonated soda resting on his chest as he watched an animated programme on the large screen.  He was also dressed casually, in a dark red shirt and some sort of denims.

Morgan was seated at a table, working with a thin membrane that had what resembled a keyboard mapped out on it.  Another, smaller membrane was out just above it, and a stylus rested on it.  Morgan would touch the keyboard, and musical tones would play from it.  As Rhys entered, he saw her fingers leave it and pick up the stylus, writing something on the pad.

Writing a new song, apparently.

Other various members of the band were also present.  Rhys had been introduced to all of them the morning after the concert on Madrina, since there hadn’t been time when he’d arrived.  Nathan had been pleased to tell everyone that Rhys was some sort of uncle to him, which had left Rhys feeling slightly off balance but at the same time honoured that the young man had accepted him into his family so quickly.

The band had also accepted him without any sort of questioning.  On the whole they were a nice enough bunch.  They were a mixture of alien races, and were all excited about working with Morgan and being a part of her group.  Rhys still hadn’t a clue what half the instruments they played had been, but he didn’t really think it mattered all that much.  They all knew what they were doing and he didn’t need to figure it all out himself.   

“Hello, Rhys,” Morgan said brightly as he approached her table.  “You can either sit with me, or try to dislodge Nathan from the sofa – “

“Aunt Morgan!” the young man squawked indignantly.

“And there’s coffee over on the bar,” she pointed out as if he hadn’t interrupted. 

Rhys had noticed the unmistakable smell of freshly brewed coffee, and detoured to get himself a cup.  One of the band members, a tall, red-skinned woman who Rhys thought was from some planet named Remneth, was already there, and she greeted him warmly as she sipped her own mug.  He thought her name was Orgala, but he wasn’t sure.  Sometimes he wasn’t all that good with names, especially when he’d been bombarded with them when he’d been introduced.  He was certain though he’d get them all before the trip was over.

He nodded at her greeting with a semi-chipper good morning, reaching for a mug that had been sitting on the bar top as if it had been waiting for him.  Rhys poured himself some coffee, inhaling the rich scent before taking a sip.  Yep, not as good as Ianto’s but that was perfectly fine with him.  It was still caffeine, and Torchwood had thoroughly addicted him to it.  He’d have been angry at that, but how could he be that way over the ambrosia that Ianto Jones knew how to serve up?

He returned to the table, where Morgan was sipping from her own cup, the stylus resting back on the membrane she’d been writing on.  From upside down he could make out the lines and notes that were about as close as him understanding music as he could get.  “New song?” he asked as he sat.

Morgan nodded.  “While we’re all on tour is when I start writing again.  That way I can take a break and visit the family at some point and don’t have to worry about the next album sneaking up on me.”

“Makes sense.”  He set his mug down.  “Ianto once told me that singing for a dragon was like an imperative.”

“It’s true.” Morgan smiled.  “But I’ve been the only one to make it my profession.”

Rhys laughed.  “There was our medic – Owen Harper – who kept trying to convince Ianto to go professional so he could have access to all sorts of famous people.”  It hurt a bit to mention Owen, knowing that the acerbic doctor was long dead, but Rhys wasn’t about to forget him.  They’d been friends, after all.  Even if Owen didn’t want to admit it.

“Dad and Tad don’t speak a lot about that time,” Morgan admitted, “but Dad…sometimes he gets embarrassed because he forgets things.  It’s not his fault…human minds just weren’t made for immortality.  Phillip and Henry are the same way at times, although Phillip has Clint to remind him of the old days.”

Rhys felt incredibly bad for Jack, forgetting important things in the past and having to be reminded by his mate.  “Who’s Henry?” he asked, confused.

“He’s Rowena’s mate.  It’s only been about five years since he showed up, and we didn’t know he was immortal at first until he admitted it.  He’s a strange sort of immortal, really; Merlin’s certain it’s magical but he can’t figure it out, and the Great Dragons aren’t talking.” She cracked a grin.  “When Henry comes back after dying, he always resurrects in the nearest body of water, and he’s always naked.  Luckily for him he hasn’t died a lot lately, since he lives on the Moon where there isn’t a lot of lakes or rivers, but he’s gotten used to it over the centuries.”

And Rhys had thought Jack’s gasping back to life had been weird. 

“So,” Morgan leaned forward, careful of her keyboard, “how did you like the concert?  I haven’t had a chance to ask…”

Rhys had to grin.  “I’ll be honest…I’m more of a Tom Jones kinda guy, but I enjoyed myself.”  Morgan’s music had a strength and joy to it that was totally infectious, and he hadn’t been able to keep himself from at least tapping his foot to the music.  He wouldn’t have considered it to have been his cup of tea at all, or at least before he’d ended up in the future and had so many expectations turned onto their metaphorical heads.

Morgan’s face was practically glowing.  She sat back, set her long fingers on the membranous keyboard, and began to sing “It’s Not Unusual”, her fingers dancing along the keys.

His mouth open, Rhys listened as a fifty-second century dragon played a twentieth century song.  While some of the notes seemed a bit off, Morgan really did the song justice.  He’d expected to have to explain to her who Tom Jones was, let alone what music he was famous for, and this was a wonderful surprise.

She ended the song with a flourish, and then swung into “Sex Bomb”.  Morgan kicked the chair out of her way and she stood, her fingers still on the keyboard even as she proceeded to dance in place.  Rhys laughed, clapping happily at the performance.

Once she was finished, she bowed, raising her arm and twirling her hand flamboyantly.  “That was bloody brilliant!” Rhys exclaimed. 

“Are those new songs?” Nathan asked.  Rhys hadn’t even noticed him approach, as well as the four band members who had been in the observation room.

“Oh no,” Morgan laughed.  “They are very old songs.  Old Earth twentieth century…so we’re talking over three thousand years old.”

“How did you learn them?” Orgala asked.

“I bet anything it was your Tad,” Rhys answered for her.

“It was,” Morgan confirmed.  “He has almost an entire library of music he’s enjoyed over his lifetime, and Tom Jones is one of the artists I grew up with.”

“Have you ever thought that maybe we should do an album of old songs like that?” another member of the band inquired.  Rhys thought the short human’s name had been Mortimer. 

Morgan cocked her head to the side, considering.  “I hadn’t, actually.  But it would be a great way to introduce classics like that to a whole new galaxy.  And it doesn’t have to be just Old Earth songs either!” She was getting excited at the idea.  “We have all sorts of races working for us!  We could do a poll or something of what might work on an album.  And,” Morgan’s face turned sly, “it would mean I wouldn’t have to write on my downtime.”

 “We’d still have to do a bit of research on whether we can use the actual songs,” Orgala added.  “I don’t know what sort of copyright laws we’re going to be dealing with…”

“Sounds like research for you,” Mortimer teased.

“Good thing I don’t mind then.”  The woman’s dark eyes glittered brightly in her deep red face.

“It would also finally have songs that my Tad would like,” Morgan laughed.  “He tries, but he’s not really all that fond of what I sing.”

“You wouldn’t believe some of the songs though that he used to sing when we did karaoke,” Rhys chuckled.  “Although Jack usually had to get him at least a bit tipsy before he’d actually do it.”

Everyone around him looked confused, and he figured out immediately that it had to have been the word ‘karaoke’ that had done it.  Rhys wondered just how it had translated, since he knew the original word had been Japanese.

Was Japanese even a language anymore?  Had it gone the way that his own English and Welsh had?  It must have, judging from the reactions he was getting.

And so, he found himself explaining karaoke to a new generation.

They all grasped it, from their comprehending smiles.  “We have that too,” Morgan said, “but we call it a lot of different things-”

“Wait,” Nathan butted in, “are you saying my Grandtad used to get up in front of strangers and sing?” He looked completely and utterly pleased with the whole idea.

“Yeah, he and Jack did.”  Rhys leaned back in his chair, cradling his cooling coffee mug to his chest.  “Every year on the anniversary of them taking over Torchwood, the team would go out and celebrate.  This always meant karaoke.  But like I said, Ianto had to be a bit into his cups before he’d indulge Jack’s need to have him make a spectacle of himself…although, I’m sure you know, Ianto’s quite a good singer.”  Once the team had splintered and Patrick had gone to London to run things there, the anniversary party had taken on a new significance.  They would alternate between Cardiff and London, and Jack always would rent a venue so everyone could fit.  Still, Rhys could count on one hand the times they’d actually been able to celebrate on the actual day, what with the Rift and alien invasions and all.

One memory came to him, and he had to laugh.  “There was this one time that we had this bloke named Thor along-”

“The King of Asgard?” Mortimer inquired, surprised.

“Thor’s still around?” Of course that made sense, as the Asgardians were a very long-lived people.  Still it was startling to know there was someone else out there somewhere who might actually recognise Rhys if they met.  “You know, that doesn’t surprise me.”

“Go on,” Nathan urged, looking mesmerised.

Rhys obliged.  “Anyway, it was after all that mess with SHIELD…”  He got more confusing looks, but went on anyway, “Thor had moved to London to be with his lady friend, Jane Foster, and a couple of our team went to talk to him…we did that back then, checking in with resident aliens and making sure they were doing alright.” He glanced up at Nathan.  “Your Dad was one the pair who went, because the Clint Barton back then had fought with Thor against the Chitauri.”

Nathan was grinning like mad.  “Dad’s told me that story.”

Rhys went on to explain how Clint and Patrick had gone to visit with Thor and had ended up inviting him to the annual party.   Rhys had a lot of fun telling everyone about it, about how both Thor and Jack had tried to drink each other under the table and ended up in a tie because both had such a high tolerance for alcohol.  And how Jane had ended up on the roof with a drunken Ianto, who’d wanted to take her flying but was so pissed he couldn’t figure out how to change back into a dragon. 

Even now, Rhys was positive that Patrick and Alice had conceived their second child that night after they’d been found making out in the gents’.

The police had been called that year, and the poor Cardiff bobbies had been shocked by the sight of their prim and proper DCI, Kathy Swanson-Sato, dirty-dancing with her wife, and of Kathy’s sergeant, Andy Davidson, snogging Deborah as if his life depended on giving her a tonsillectomy. It had been pretty common knowledge at that point that Andy had been smitten with Torchwood’s PA, but that had been the first time he’d done anything about it.

Andy and Deborah had gotten married the following year. 

As of that night, despite all of the shenanigans going on, only one person had been injured: Phil Coulson, when Thor had given him an over-exuberant hug on discovering that the ‘Son of Coul’ was still alive and he’d accidentally cracked one of Phil’s ribs during the embrace.  It had, unfortunately, put a damper on what Clint had planned on doing to Phil later that night, but even he had had to admit it had been worth it to see the absolutely mortified look on the SHIELD Director’s face as his dignity was thoroughly wrecked by an excited Asgardian.

He had everyone laughing by the time he’d finished the story.  Nathan was practically doubled over, and Rhys couldn’t blame him.  They’d all had some great times back then, and now that Rhys was gone and in the future he was going to miss every single one of those arses he’d worked with.  Once again it hit him that he most likely wasn’t going home again, but he did find that it still didn’t bother him as much as it possibly should. Yes, he would never see his folks and his friends and teammates again, but at the same time he had the future in front of him…literally. 

And there was still Jack and Ianto, and of course Clint and Phil, so he wasn’t alone.  Plus, he was feeling as if he was gaining a new family, with Morgan and Nathan, and even Cadi and Brina.  He hadn’t even met the rest of the Harkness-Jones brood, but he was really looking forward to it.  Knowing that two of his greatest friends were happy so far into the future was worth a lot to Rhys.  He remembered their mating ceremony all those years ago – not so long for him, of course.  To know they were still together, and had had such a large family, made Rhys smile. 

Maybe he could have that sort of future here, too.

Strangely, thinking that brought up Gwen.  Rhys had wanted a future with her as well, but that hadn’t turned out at all as he’d planned.  He knew he could lay a large part of the blame for that at Torchwood’s door, and it was possible he would have held a long grudge if he hadn’t gone to work for them himself and discovered the truth of how learning what he had would have changed someone.  Hell, it had changed him, only for the better.  But Gwen…well, he’d found out a lot about her after that, and while it had hurt to part company with her it had really turned out just fine. 

He’d never found anyone else who’d held his interest like Gwen had.  He actually was okay with that as well as being stranded in a future he had no real clue about. 

It was funny how things worked out.

Now though, he was surrounded by friends who were determined to look out for him.  Almost like being in Torchwood, actually.

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

 

**_19 June 5119 (Earth Standard Date)_ **

**_Dahlnia Prime_ **

 

****

If Rhys had known what was going to happen on Dahlnia Prime, he would never have left the spaceship.

Still, he couldn’t give up seeing another world, let alone helping out.  Even if he’d had a clue at the time.

Dahlnia Prime had been nearly destroyed by a close-orbiting asteroid that had skimmed the atmosphere so closely and had been large enough to disturb its magnetic poles.  Rhys wasn’t a scientist by any stretch of the imagination, but he could clearly see the effects on the planet the moment they’d arrived.

Everything had pretty much come to a halt.  It had once been like any other planet in the Human Empire – reliant on high technology to the point where it became nearly impossible to survive without it.  However, the damage to Dahlnia Prime’s magnetic field had been severe enough to destroy the planet’s satellite network and knocking out power on every continent.  It was going to take the world a long time to recover, but with all the ships and transports that were already there Rhys knew the Dahlnians had all the help they could ask for.

There were several celebrities already onsite, and Rhys rolled his eyes at the press that followed them around as they tried to help the inhabitants.  Morgan had her own fair share as she and her band made their way to the venue where she and the other performers there would be playing their benefit concert.  She’d also confided in him that she was also donating the entire proceeds of her last tour to reconstruction efforts, and Rhys had to wonder just how many others would have been as generous.  Morgan also said that she’d be coming back after they’d dropped Rhys off on Hubworld in order to keep on helping. 

Torchwood, however, was already on the scene, if the fancy ships with the familiar ‘T’ logo with a dragon curled around it were any indication.  He was halfway tempted to volunteer to go back with one of them, but he held off.  He was comfortable around Morgan, Nathan, and her bandmates but wasn’t so sure about getting a ride with strangers.  Besides, there was no way of telling just how long the relief efforts would take, and he could have been stranded for longer than the one day that Morgan was planning on staying this trip.

“Emlyn!” Morgan shouted as they got closer to the venue.  There was a woman nearby helping a family, and stopped what she was doing at the call and headed toward them, smiling. 

She was very beautiful, even wearing a dirty coverall and heavy boots with her brown hair tired up in a sloppy ponytail.  Rhys could see how she’d made her fortune as a model.  “Morgan,” she said, pulling her into a hug.  “I heard you were coming.”

“I wouldn’t pass this up.”  She pulled out of the hug.  “Emlyn, this is Rhys Williams.  I’m sure Tad and Dad have mentioned him…”

Emlyn held out her hand.  “Of course they did.  Nice to meet you, Mr Williams.”

“It’s Rhys.”  He took her offered hand.  “And it’s nice to meet another member of the Harkness-Jones horde.”

Emlyn laughed delightedly.  “I suppose that’s what we are. I need to remember that.”

“I’m going to go and get set up for the concert,” Morgan said.  “If you want to stay and help, Rhys…”

“You know I do.”  He wasn’t the sort of person to turn his back on all this suffering.  As long as Morgan was going to be on the planet, he would volunteer to do whatever he could to help.

Morgan squeezed his elbow and then left him with Emlyn. “I can’t even imagine what’s happened to you,” she said, “and yet you’re willing to put that aside and lend a hand.”

“It’s what Torchwood does, isn’t it?” he asked.

Emlyn smiled.  “That it does.  In fact, I expected Dad and Tad to be on their way here, but something’s come up on Hubworld and they and Phillip are being delayed.”

Rhys wondered what that could have been, but then dismissed the thought.  He really wasn’t a member of Torchwood anymore, despite his words.

“Hey, Aunt Emlyn,” Nathan said, coming up behind Rhys and nearly making him jump out of his skin.  The young man seemed amused by the reaction.

“Nathan,” she said warmly, and then she turned back to Rhys.  “There’s a sign-up area just down that way.” She pointed down the road they were on, which had been blocked by various sorts of vehicles.  Some of them were like the cars that Rhys had been used to, while others were like bubbles or something.  From what he could tell, the pile-up had been caused when two vehicles had stalled, and it had been cause and effect from there.  He just hoped no one had been hurt or killed.  “If you and Nathan want to go and let them know you’re here to help, you’ll be assigned a job that you’re suited to.” She paused a moment.  “What did you do when you were in Torchwood?”

“Logistics,” he answered.  He’d taken a bit of Ianto’s duties on when he’d been hired: mostly keeping things in order, placing supply orders, feeding the Hub residents – both human and alien – and arranging such things as transportation.  He’d also been a field agent, but he didn’t know if that would be of use right now.  He did have his old Harwood’s job to fall back on, and figured that would be what would help best in this situation.  “And if I have Nathan helping I shouldn’t make too much of a fool of myself.”

“I doubt you would anyway,” Emlyn said, smiling.  “Any help is good help at this point, and no one will ever get turned away just because they might not be from around these parts.”

“We’ll meet up with everyone later,” Nathan promised.  “And I have my comm on me, so if we’re needed or anything just call me.”

“Will do.” Emlyn touched Nathan on the shoulder, and then made the same gesture to Rhys.  “Take care, the both of you.”  She then rejoined the crew she’d been working with, camera people who’d been filming their conversation fading in amongst them.

For a split second Rhys wanted to yell at them for not helping, but then realised that the paparazzi actually were, by drawing attention to what was happening on Dahlnia Prime.  Anything to make the outer galaxies aware that the planet had been decimated was a good thing since it would bring more willing to give what aid they could.

“Let’s go,” Nathan broke into his thoughts.

The young man practically dragged Rhys down the street, to the sign-up area that Emlyn had pointed out.  There was quite a crowd around the tent that had been set up, but it didn’t take them long at all to get through it and to be assigned jobs.  Rhys was lucky; he found himself directing lorries with supplies and equipment to locations they were needed, while Nathan attached himself to him as a helper and errand runner. 

Rhys thrived with this sort of work.  It was what he’d been doing for years, before joining Torchwood.  Once the people he found himself directing figured out that he knew what he was doing, they were more than willing to follow Rhys’ orders. 

There were a lot of supplies coming into the ravaged planet, and Rhys made sure items got to where they were needed.  He had to actually yell at a transport who’d been taking a load of medical supplies in the wrong direction, and he was never more so grateful for the magical translator that he’d been given.  He made a mental note to thank Merlin when he finally got to meet the bloke.

Several times, though, he was interrupted by camera crews and various famous people wanting to know what he was doing.  Rhys bit his tongue, not wanting to piss anyone off, because it meant word was getting out.  Still, it was a good thing none of them hung around for long, or else he’d been tempted to give a good rant at them for wasting his time.

He was exhausted and sweaty by the time Nathan tapped him on the arm and told him that dinner was ready at the ship.  Rhys handed off his tablet – that’s what he called it anyway, because it was almost like the StarkPad he’d had back home – to the person relieving him and followed the young dragon back toward the spaceport, where the _Shining Star_ had been docked.  They were checked at the front gate although it took a while with all the cameras and reporters hovering around waiting for their newest scoop to appear.  Security was extremely tight around the port, and Rhys could completely understand; the last thing the Dahlnians needed was some sort of diplomatic incident with all the celebrities and diplomats showing up to help with relief efforts.  Some of them, he was certain, were only there for the publicity, but there were so many more who just wanted to help. 

He practically dragged himself up the ramp into the _Shining Star,_ tiredness eating at him.  Ever since he’d arrived in the future, Rhys had found himself getting worn out faster than he had before, and he had to chalk it up to being chewed up and spat out by the Rift, and then being a guest of the Andralan mind probe.  It had taken far too much out of him, and he had a feeling it would be awhile before he completely recovered.

“I’m gonna get cleaned up first,” he told Nathan.  “I feel like I’ve got dirt in places I shouldn’t have.”

Nathan laughed.  “Yeah, me too.  I’ll see you in the observation lounge.”

It didn’t take Rhys long to shower and put on clean clothes.  He knew if he stopped moving, he’d most likely fall asleep, and his stomach was complaining about the lack of food since the sandwich he’d had for lunch.  Eating before sleep was definitely on the agenda. 

He had to laugh at himself when he got a look at his face in the mirror.  He was sunburnt; his nose was practically glowing red against his chapped-looking cheeks.  He told himself he’d need a hat tomorrow, if they hung around long enough for him to get some more work in.  Morgan had said they were only going to stay long enough for the benefit concert, and then be on their way, but Rhys was hoping he could talk her into staying another day.  These people needed help, and it didn’t matter how much he was itching to get to Hubworld and to see Jack and Ianto once more. 

Everyone was on the observation deck when he finally arrived.  Thankfully there were no cameras present, but then Rhys was pretty sure that Morgan would have put her foot down on that, since this ship was her home for large amounts of time.  The last thing she would have wanted was a bunch of nosy parkers intruding in on where she lived.

He helped himself to the buffet that had been set up along one wall.  The dome of the deck had been blacked out, which was fine with him; looking up into a small city of other spaceships just wasn’t that appealing. 

Rhys found a seat at the table where Morgan, Emlyn, and Nathan sat.  There was another man there, and he didn’t even have to ask if he was a Harkness-Jones.  All Jack and Ianto’s children resembled their parents, and it was getting disgustingly easy to pick them out.  Even Nathan, with his alien hair and skin, had that undefinable Harkness-Jones air about him.

As much as he liked Nathan though, Rhys felt like punching him when the young man began laughing.  “You look like a Remneth,” he chortled, pointing toward Rhys’ face.

He rolled his eyes at Nathan’s antics.  “Yeah, well I didn’t take into consideration that I’d be out in the bloody sun all day.”

The other man was smiling slightly.  It was a smile that Rhys had seen on Ianto’s face many a time.  “I have something that will help with that.”  He held out his hand.  “Gareth Jones.”

“Rhys Williams.”  He shook the offered hand.

“It’s a pleasure,” Gareth said. 

If Rhys remembered correctly, Gareth was some sort of hot shot doctor.  He figured that meant he could trust whatever he had to help with the sunburn.

“The set for the concert went well,” Morgan reported.  “I let the organisers know that I’d be taking off in the morning, but that I’d be back in about a standard week if they wanted to schedule anything else.”

“We could stay,” Rhys said tentatively.  He’d felt good helping out today, and while he really did want to get to Hubworld there was something about being there on Dahlnia Prime; something that had fulfilled him as he’d made certain supplies got to where they’d needed to go. 

“Rhys,” Morgan said, “that’s generous of you, but Dad and Tad really want you back on Hubworld.  I know you want to help but we absolutely need to make certain there weren’t any side effects from you getting tossed through the Rift.” She reached over and laid her hand on his.  “Afterward, you can come out with any of the other volunteers, but for now…we need to get you to Torchwood.”

She made sense.  Rhys had been feeling more tired than usual, and it most likely had something to do with his unannounced trip into the future.  Still, a part of him felt guilty at dragging Morgan away from Dahlnia Prime, where she really wanted to be.

“Hells,” she went on, “if everything goes well, you could come back with me.  I’m sure by then Dad and Tad will be ready to come with us.”

Gareth was nodding.  “Regular scans might not be able to show any neurological or biological damage that an active time and space Rift can cause.  You might feel fine now, but there’s no telling what might crop up later on.  Torchwood’s medical division is state-of-the-art, and the instruments there are sensitive enough to show damage down to the quantum level.  There isn’t anything more sensitive outside some of the largest hospitals.”  He met Rhys’ gaze. “I know you’ve had to have seen victims of the Old Cardiff Rift.  You know what I’m speaking of.”

Rhys did.  Those poor people out at Flat Holm, who’d gotten shat out of the Rift and who would have died if it hadn’t been for Jack and Ianto taking care of them.  They’d had the worst of it.  They would never recover, and there were times even when they could only be made comfortable before the end.  Rhys had been out to Flat Holm fairly often, making regular supply runs to the island and visiting Helen there.  That woman had the patience of a saint, having to deal with what she’d been given, helping those wounded men and women who’d had no place to go.

“Alright,” he conceded.  “I get your point.”

“It just goes to show what a good person you are,” Emlyn said, “that you want to stay and help.  I can see why Dad and Tad wanted you in their Torchwood.”

Rhys was very glad that he was sunburned, because it hid the sudden blush he knew was there at Emlyn’s words.  “I just try to do the best I can,” he murmured.

“And that’s all you can do,” Gareth said warmly.  “Now, let’s finish up, and I’ll get you that topical spray for your overdose of sunshine.”

“Another good thing about being a Star Dragon,” Morgan laughed, “we don’t have to worry about that sort of thing.”

Rhys laughed as well.  “You and that bloody Welsh complexion you have!  You all should be burning worse than me!”

“I guess that just makes me even luckier!” Nathan exclaimed.  Rhys has to agree; with his darker skin, he wouldn’t have to worry about how much time he spent out in the sun, even if he wasn’t a Star Dragon.

“I’m still not sure about this Star Dragon thing,” he admitted.  “Nathan explained where the name came from, but beyond that what makes you all different from Ianto?  Maybe I’m being a bit of a numpty about it…”

“No,” Emlyn answered, “you aren’t.”  She leaned over and ruffled Nathan’s hair; the young man squawked indignantly.  Rhys got the feeling that Nathan’s hair was the target of such treatment often by various family members. “Nathan’s fond of the story, and it’s all true.”

“There are also physiological changes between us and Tad,” Gareth added, “like we’re able to go for long times without changing into our dragon aspects, whereas Tad feels the need to every couple of days, and even feels more comfortable sleeping that way.  He’s also tied to the Earth in a way we aren’t, and, every once in a while, he needs to return there to reconnect, and we don’t have to do that.  We can also survive a short time in the vacuum of space…we go into a sort of hibernation until we get picked up.  Cadi found that out the hard way, when her ship got blown up around her.  Luckily Anwyn was in the area and found her.  We really don’t have any idea how long we can do that, and none of us want to find out.”

“Anwyn – she’s the oldest, and she was conceived just after our parents left Earth to move to Hubworld – was a surprise to them,” Emlyn added.  “They’d thought they were incompatible to have children together.”

“Remind Tad to tell you how he and Dad both freaked out when they learned about it,” Morgan grinned.  “It’s hilarious.”

“Well,” Gareth went on, “it turned out that they had a little help.”

“Don’t tell me,” Rhys snorted.  “The Great Dragons.”

“Absolutely.”  The doctor nodded.  “No one realised it at the time that even Anwyn had had a bit of a magical goose in being conceived, because Dad and Tad had been away from Earth at the time.  It turned out the magic was just waiting for a time when Dad wasn’t constantly exposed to various contraceptives in Earth’s atmosphere.”

“Jack joked about being pregnant before,” Rhys commented, “but none of us believed him.” He shrugged one shoulder. “You know how your Dad is.”

“Goddess, do we!” Morgan exclaimed. 

“And you have to know just how shocked Tad was that Dad hadn’t been exaggerating,” Emlyn added.

“It wasn’t until nearly six hundred years later that they moved back to Ddraig Llyn,” Gareth continued.  “They had their second mating then, and that was when Rowena and Cadi were conceived…and carried by Tad, who previously hadn’t shown any propensity toward male pregnancy.”

“Bloody fertility magic,” Rhys said, shaking his head.  “My Great-Gran, she was a midwife who never lost a mother or a baby, and Mam told it was because she was magical.”

“You have magic?” Nathan asked.  He looked just a bit gobsmacked at the news.

“Not really,” he admitted.  “It seemed to be only in the women in my family, and even then Mam didn’t really have much magic at all.  She could keep a bit of garden with it, but that was it.”  He smiled sadly, suddenly missing her and his own Tad like he’d had a hole cut into his chest.  “You should have seen it when she was introduced to Ianto.  It was like every dream she’d ever had had come true.”  She’d gone on to join the Cardiff coven, but she never really gained any other magic than what she had.  She had, however, become quite the potion maker, once she’d gained access to some of the magical herbs that the coven had available to them.

Had Jack and Ianto told his folks what had happened to him?  Or had they come up with a cover story so they wouldn’t have any false hope?  He was familiar with some of the tales that Torchwood could spin, and Rhys wished that they’d been honest with his Mam and Tad, and let them know that he’d been taken by the Rift, and that he most likely wasn’t going to be coming back. 

He couldn’t help but think back to that conversation that they’d all had on the night that Jack had fired Gwen from Torchwood.  How he’d told her that he’d hoped someone would tell him the truth if he had some sort of terrible disease or something.  Rhys now knew he’d been speaking truly, because being in this situation, taken from the time he’s known and dropped into a place he knew practically nothing about, he wanted the complete and honest truth told to him, no matter how grim.

But things weren’t hopeless.  Rhys had new friends, and Jack and Ianto were waiting for him.  He wasn’t alone, and he was certain he wouldn’t be no matter what happened. 

A hand grasping his brought Rhys out of his thoughts, and he looked up to see Emlyn looking at him, sympathy in her eyes.  The others at the table had the same expression, and Rhys felt something unknot within his chest; something he hadn’t been aware that was there.

No, he wasn’t alone. It wasn’t the same as his old home, but here he had a chance to make a new one, and he had people to help him do just that.

 

 

 


	14. Chapter 14

 

**_19 June 5119 (Earth Standard Date)_ **

**_Dahlnia Prime_ **

 

Despite how tired he was, Rhys was completely unable to sleep.

He found himself at some ungodly time of the night wandering the hallways of the large spaceship, the _Shining Star_ so quiet he could have heard a pin drop, even with the thick carpet on the floors.  In the observation lounge he got himself what passed for a bottle of water in the future; it was just like the same round bulb that Brina had given him back during their escape from Andrala. 

He took it and left the room.  He sighed as he continued his wander until he found the exit, the large metal door closed for the night. 

There was a pad next to it, and Rhys knew from his own bedroom door that it was a hand scanner.  Everyone on the _Shining Star_ had their biometric information on file with the ship’s central computer, and could go anywhere onboard as they pleased as long as the scanner recognised them as a valid member of the crew. 

He rested his hand on the scanner, and it beeped, the red light on it shifting to green.  There was a faint rumble as the door rose and the ramp slid out of its housing to reach the ground.  Without stopping to look back, Rhys walked down the ramp and onto the odd grey tarmac of the spaceport. 

The air was cool, and there was the sound of machinery in the distance; there would still be work going on, and most likely wouldn’t stop until things were back to whatever passed for normal on Dahlnia Prime.

Rhys took a deep breath, an ever so slight chemical tang resting on his tongue.  He moved past the ship, his eyes turning to the sky, and he gasped at the bright aurora that partially hid the stars above.  Brilliant greens and blues fought for dominance, and for some reason he found himself thinking about Jack and Ianto’s mating, so many years ago, when Jack had been changed for one night into a fierce blue dragon, the better to chase green Ianto into the sky.  Both dragons had danced and twisted high above, flashes of colour against the white peak of Pedair Dreigiau and loud laughter echoing down to the clear water of the lake.  Everyone had been happy then. 

Not to say that there hadn’t been happiness after that.  There had been, more than anyone would have guessed.  But there had also been bad events that had affected their own, chosen, family directly.  The 456, the fall of SHIELD, HYDRA, the Invasion…so many tragedies, and yet they all managed to either survive or help the survivors in whatever ways they could.  And hey, they also saved the planet several times over, so that was definitely a plus.

A part of Rhys wondered what had happened to his teammates after he’d gone.  How many other tragedies had occurred without him there to help?  How had they eventually died?  Had it been heroically, or had it been peaceful?  And what about Alice and Patrick’s children?  The little girl that Kathy and Toshiko had adopted mere months before Rhys had been taken by the Rift?  Had Eion and Tish finally pulled their heads out of their arses and gotten together?  And Martha and Tom…they’d also been talking about having children, since Torchwood had grown so much over the years?    

Another part of him really didn’t want to know what had occurred.  Didn’t want to hear that someone had been killed or died or was changed beyond recognition.  He’d outlived them all through a chance encounter with a capricious Rift in time and space, and he thought that was keenly unfair.  He should have been able to stand with his teammates and fought the good fight and not survived them.  He should have been buried in Cardiff, or kept in one of the cryogenic units at the Hub because he’d gone and done something stupid with a piece of unknown alien tech. 

“You okay?”

The soft voice startled him, and Rhys jumped, almost dropping his water bulb.  Nathan was there, leaning against one of the _Shining Star’s_ landing struts, his face curious under the shifting lights of the aurora overhead. 

“Can’t sleep?” Rhys asked in return, dodging the question.

Nathan shrugged.  “I don’t sleep much.  It’s a combination of my Margath, Dragon, and Immortal physiology.   My combined genetics do come back and kick me in the arse sometimes.”  His lips were curled up in a slight smile, one that Rhys returned.

He hadn’t really talked much about his other father, and when he had Rhys had had to refrain from making comments along the lines of, _‘Clint Barton…pregnant?’_ because he had such a hard time with even considering his former teammate giving birth to twins. 

The future…stranger than he’d ever had a clue about; the one that wasn’t really Clint Barton anymore, but Clint Jones, according to his new family.

 “What about you?” came the response Rhys had thought he’d distracted Nathan from.

 Rhys mirrored Nathan’s shrug.  “You ever be so tired you just can’t get to sleep?”

“Reminds me of all those last minute papers I had to write while at University.”

“You didn’t say you were at University.”  Rhys shouldn’t have been surprised.  After all, he had no real idea just how old Nathan was, only that he mostly acted like a teenager but seemed really smart.

“Oh yeah.” His teeth flashed white as he smiled, those longer canines glittering almost predatorily.  “Studied quantum mechanics until I got completely bored with all the classes and stuff.  I just couldn’t stay in one place, even though Dad really wanted me to get an education…something about his first incarnation not getting the chance.  Well, he really couldn’t deny it when I purposely flunked out of all my classes because I just didn’t have the attention span for it.  So, he let me travel with him for a while, and when he settled down with my third Dad I joined Aunt Morgan’s crew.”  He held his arms out from his body.  “And here I am.”

“And here you are.”  Of course Rhys had heard about Clint’s lack of formal education, but it never seemed to hinder his former teammate at all.  Nor did it Nathan, apparently.

“And who knows? Someday I might get tired of it and decide to settle myself down.”

“Or meet the right person,” Rhys teased.

“Yeah, I suppose.”

“You don’t sound very certain of that.”  It surprised him a little, since Nathan had yet to show any sort of inferiority issues. 

Whatever he’d been about to say was interrupted by a sharp pinging sound, almost like a bullet hitting metal.  Rhys’ reflexes kicked in, and he ducked, hoping that Nathan would do the same since he wasn’t quite close enough to pull the young man down with him.

He managed to take cover near the lowered ramp, his eyes trying to find the source of the sound.  There were spaceships all around, several of them tall enough to hide a sniper…and in that moment Rhys had no doubt whatsoever that this was what they were dealing with.

Someone was trying to kill him.

Bloody hell.

“Nathan? You okay?” He glanced around and saw Nathan crouched on the ground, his head moving in an almost serpentine fashion as he, too, scanned for threats.  

“Yeah,” was the soft answer.  “It takes a lot to damage one of us, and this arse is a shitty shot.”

Another ping of bullet hitting metal had Rhys ducking once more.  He had to agree with Nathan’s critique of the situation, because even with a surprise shot he hadn’t hit either of them.  Rhys wondered if there was such a thing as smart bullets in the future, and why wasn’t whoever it was using some sort of laser gun anyway?  He knew damned well there were those in the future, since Torchwood had gained a couple through the Rift.  Patrick had loved them on sight, and it had taken all of Jack’s not-inconsiderable charm and some pretty harsh threats to get Patrick to let go and stay away from the “pretty toys”.

“So, why aren’t they using lasers or blasters or something?” he asked out loud even as he was moving up and onto the ramp to gain some better shelter.

“Probably not wanting to draw attention,” Nathan answered, following close to the ground.  “Lasers are loud and showy, after all.  Better with a bullet or something near-silent.”

“Like a bow and arrow,” Rhys quipped.

Nathan laughed.  “You really _do_ know my Dad then… _get_ _down_!”

A solid bulk slammed him flat onto the metal of the ramp, knocking the wind out of him.  There was a sudden warmth, and the weight on him got heavier and then was gone, accompanied by a loud hissing that sounded more snake than human.

Rhys flipped himself onto his back, so he could see what was going on.  His eyes widened as he took in Nathan, in all his dragon glory.

He was different, though, from the rest of his family.  Instead of the European dragon form the Jones family seemed to take, Nathan’s was closer to the Oriental end of the spectrum.  The lights of the aurora seemed to be sucked into the blackness of his scales.  His silver hair had lengthened, trailing down his long sinewy neck to end between his shoulder blades almost like a horse’s mane, with another tuft at the end of his flicking tail.  Two twisted horns adorned his head, closely resembling the rack of a large buck. 

And he had no wings.

Nathan reared up on his rear legs, serpentine body swaying as he hissed out a warning to whoever was shooting at them.  “Get into the ship!” he ordered.  “Get help!”

Rhys wasn’t about to argue.  More shots were coming, some of them ricocheting off of Nathan’s armoured body, and he had absolutely no wish to get hit by one.  For one thing, it would make Nathan feel guilty; and second…being shot hurt like fuck.  He’d done his time with Owen after having bullets in him, and he wanted to avoid that at all cost.

Besides, he knew Nathan could take care of himself.  He was a Star Dragon, and it took a lot to put a dragon down.

He was barely in the ship when a body collided into him.  He spun to see Gareth there, and practically shouted, “Someone’s out there shooting at us!”

“We know,” the doctor answered sharply.  “Morgan is on the line now with spaceport security.”

“Nathan’s out there,” he added, trying to catch his breath.

“I’ll go and get my nephew.  Wait here.”

Gareth hadn’t even managed to take a step away when a loud roar of anger and pain echoed through the open hatch.  There was a thud outside, and Gareth was out of the door like a shot, his own dragon form making itself known before he’d gotten halfway outside.  There was a sudden flash of light, and heat blasted back into the ship, making Rhys duck once more, the temperature of it making the once mostly healed sunburn on his face to stiffen and pinch.

Rhys wanted to go out there and help Nathan and Gareth, but knew he’d only be a target that they’d have to watch out for even as they tried to find the sniper, wherever they were.  So he stayed where he was, leaning against the cool metal of the wall, getting his breath back as yet another roar, this one fierce and furious, sounded out across the tarmac. 

Emlyn came running up to him, and shot him a look that told him to stay put.  She was out the door as well, the familiar golden glow of transformation forming around her.  He caught a quick glance of silvery scales before she was completely gone.

“You okay?”

It was a totally coincidental echo of what Nathan had asked him not that long ago.  “Am I supposed to be?” he asked sarcastically.

Morgan grimaced.  “No, I suppose not.”  She was holding a fancy looking rifle, resting it on her shoulder.  “Gareth and Emlyn go out?”

“Yeah.  Nathan’s out there, too.”

“Damnit.”  She looked helpless.  “Well, port security is on the way, but I bet Gareth and Emlyn catch whoever it is for them.”

“How did you know someone was out there taking pot shots at us?”

“Exterior alarm.  It registered the ship taking fire and woke us up.”

Morgan didn’t show any attempt to follow her siblings, and Rhys wanted to know why.

She shrugged at the question.  “I don’t have my dragon form yet.  Besides, someone needs to stay back and protect the ship.”

_Protect_ _him_ , she didn’t say.

She really didn’t have to.

“Morgan!”

It was Gareth calling out, and his voice, back to human normal,  sounded downright terrified.  Morgan was out the door like a shot, and Rhys couldn’t help but follow.  Something had made Gareth sound like that, and his heart sank like a stone even as he was following Morgan.

“I need the first aid kit,” Gareth ordered.  Morgan was moving past Rhys as he stopped and stared, his pulse racing a mile a minute as he watched Gareth kneel beside a prone Nathan.

The young dragon was moving, but the whimpers of pain pierced Rhys like he imagined Clint’s arrows would, stabbing him deeply as he watched as Gareth stripped off his shirt and pressed it against black scales, and what had to have been blood making an even darker stain on Nathan’s chest.

“Armour piercer,” Gareth proclaimed even before Rhys could think about what sort of projectile had been able to get through dragon scale.  “Emlyn’s on their trail.  They won’t get away.”  There was a tone in his words, one that Rhys had heard Ianto use when someone had hurt his Torchwood family.  It meant blood and vengeance, and he really wanted in on that.

“What can I do to help?” he asked.

“Hold this,” Gareth didn’t have to even indicate what he meant; Rhys was on his knees instantly, hands on the makeshift bandage and pushing on it as hard as he could. 

Nathan whimpered again, and Rhys knew it had to hurt like hell, but he also knew they had to get the wound to stop bleeding.  “It’s gonna be okay,” he murmured, hoping he was being heard. 

“Hurts,” Nathan whined, showing Rhys that he had, indeed, heard.

“I know, believe me,” he reassured the injured dragon.  “Been where you are, and I had a medic who knew just what to do.  Like your Uncle Gareth.”  The older dragon had left Rhys’ side, but returned quickly clutching a large white box with a red ‘x’ on it.  He practically ripped the lid open, revealing all sorts of medical equipment; Rhys recognised it from when Gareth had helped with his earlier sunburn.

“We need to get that bullet out,” Gareth murmured, pulling something from the first aid kit that resembled some sort of scanner.  He ran it over Nathan’s chest, watching the readings he was getting.  “When Emlyn gets back, we’re going to transport him to the nearest hospital.  It should have the facilities I need.”  His eyes met Rhys’, and he could see the fury and agony that the doctor was feeling.  “Morgan’s going to need to handle spaceport security, and I’d like you to stay with her.  Then you can both come to the hospital and hopefully I’ll know more then.”  He went back to monitoring Nathan’s condition, and Rhys could see his hands were steady even though the rest of him was shaking slightly.

“He’ll be okay, won’t he?” Morgan asked.  Rhys glanced up at her; she was standing with her feet apart, the rifle held firmly in her hands, and he could tell she desperately wanted to shoot something.

Gareth didn’t answer, which scared Rhys more than all the blood that was still seeping from the young dragon’s chest.

 

 

 


	15. Chapter 15

 

**_20 June 5119 (Earth Standard Date)_ **

**_Gliese 581g (Hubworld)_ **

****

The main holosuite in Torchwood Tower was on the Director’s level, at the opposite end of the building from Phillip’s office.  Ianto met him there and Bratsk – wearing the face of Virginia Potts, whom Ianto had met on several different occasions long ago – was two steps behind hir Director, a fancy earpiece and dictation tablet on hand, despite the various recording devices that would be in the room.  Ianto, of course, knew why Phillip did it; to make whoever was meeting in that room believe that Bratsk was taking the only notes of the meeting.  In fact, it had been a long-standing tradition dating back to himself and Jack pulling the same act on unsuspecting people at the old Cardiff Hub. 

The door slid open, revealing the room beyond.  It was large, with a traditional boardroom table and chairs in the centre.  Various holographic transmitters were placed about the room, and as Phillip took his place in the chair at the head of the table, the lights within dimmed slightly and the projectors came online. 

Ianto took a stance just behind and to the left of Phillip’s chair, wanting to make certain those attending would know where his loyalty lay.  Bratsk took a seat to Phillip’s right, her tablet on the table top, stylus primed and ready.

The first to ‘arrive’ at the meeting were the Adjudicators assigned to the case.  There were three: one was familiar to Ianto; his own son, Alun, most likely there as the expert on Torchwood protocol.  He didn’t recognise the second being, but the third he definitely knew: Harlana Chan, a member of the race that had once spawned the Shadow Architects for the former Shadow Proclamation.  The resolution on the holo-projectors was so good that the woman’s red eyes were very obvious as she nodded to Phillip in greeting.

The Adjudicator Council had been an outgrowth of the Shadow Proclamation after it had dissolved.  Most planets in the Human Empire hadn’t needed them, having ceded much of their former duties to Torchwood once it had gotten large enough to carry out what needed to be done.  It also hadn’t helped that the Judoon, the former enforcers of the Proclamation, had been far too heavy-handed in their pursuit of justice and had gained a rather bloodthirsty reputation.  After several altercations with planet-based security the Judoon forces were eventually disbanded and sent back to their own world.

Now, the Adjudicators were the judges for disputes that could not be solved on the planetary level.  Calling on the Adjudication Council was a final, last ditch effort to come to a resolution.  While they didn’t handle diplomatic relations between worlds, they did have final say on conflicts that went beyond the global.  The Andralan calling them in on this dispute would be their last chance to get their way.

Which, Ianto was certain, they would not get.

The last to arrive were the Andralan themselves.  Ianto knew it was to give them a sort of psychological advantage, but he knew his son-by-mating well enough to know it would do no such thing.

“Welcome,” Adjudicator Chan greeted, bowing first to the Andralan representative – since they were the ones who’d initiated the claim – and then to Phillip and Ianto.  “I am Harlana Chan, Senior Adjudicator for this case.  With me are Senior Adjudicator Alun ap Llyn, as an expert on Torchwood protocol; and Junior Adjudicator Wraxla, specialist in Andralan law.  If you would all state your names, specialties, and homeworlds for the records?”

 One of the Andralan bowed.  “I am Oron, Security Commander, speaking on behalf of the Andralan government.” It had been obvious that he’d been in some sort of security position, due to the uniform he was wearing.  He also stood like he had a stick up his arse…which Ianto didn’t doubt for one moment that he actually had.

The second Andralan also bowed, but it was a deeper one than Commander Oron had given.  “Acron, Reader of Law on behalf of the Andralan Security Council.”

“You were to bring an ancient language specialist with you,” Chan commented.

“We have one,” Acron answered, “however there was a technical issue with his…ah, here he is now.”

A human male flickered into being next to the hologram of Oron.  He had dark hair and eyes, and was wearing a suit jacket that was obviously some sort of black wool.  A scarf was looped around his neck, almost obscuring the white shirt he’d coupled with the black trousers.  “I’m sorry about the delay,” he said, his Galactic Standard touched with an accent that Ianto knew very well was old English.  Like his own Welsh, it was hard to get rid of that sort of thing, even after so many centuries. “Henry Morgan,” he went on, “Doctor of Languages, Luna University, resident of the planet Earth.”

But then, Ianto knew this man very well indeed.  After all, his daughter Rowena was mated to him.

Henry Morgan had been an enigma when he’d shown up at Luna University nearly an Earth decade ago, looking for a teaching position.  It hadn’t taken Rowena long to realise there was much more to his story than he was telling, and she’d pursued him with a single-minded passion that she usually only had when going after some sort of historical mystery that she wanted to solve.  It had only been after they’d been dating for a few months that Henry had confided in her about his immortality.  It had only been fair after that, that Rowena had admitted that she, too, was immortal…and was a Star Dragon.

They’d been mated for nearly six standard years now, and Ianto genuinely liked Henry for his daughter.  They made an excellent team especially when going after whatever their latest obsessions happened to be.

Jack still teased Henry about his tendency to come back to life in the nearest body of water and naked, though. 

“Phillip Coulson, Director of the Torchwood Institute,” Phillip said, speaking with respect and yet with an undertone of just how much of a waste of time he felt this whole thing was. “My planet of birth was Earth, permanent residence now Gliese 581g, also known as Hubworld.”

“I am Bratsk,” Phillip’s assistant spoke up.  “I am personal assistant to Director Coulson, and in that capacity I have been asked to take notes on this meeting, both electronically and by hand.  I am a current resident of Gliese 581g; however, my planet of birth was Zygos Beta.”

It was Ianto’s turn.  “Ifan Jones, Professor Emeritus of Ancient Earth History.  Born on and currently a resident of Earth.”

Inwardly, he was laughing.  Four of the people there knew each other, and they were doing a damned good job at pretending otherwise.

“Thank you all for attending,” Adjudicator Chan replied, bowing slightly.  “This action was brought by the Andralan government against the Torchwood Institute, accusing the Institute of planting a spy on their homeworld and then for removing said spy from custody.  The Torchwood Institute’s reply to this action is that the person the Andralan took into custody was, in fact, the victim of a spacio-temporal event and thus falls under the Institute’s remit.  Director Coulson, it is your contention that this man, Rhys Williams, admitted to such in the interrogation that took place when the person of interest was being held by Andralan Security.”

“It is,” Phillip answered smoothly. 

“And it is the Andralan government’s contention that this is simply a story concocted to provide a cover for their spy and that Rhys Williams is guilty of espionage.”

“That is correct,” Commander Oron practically hissed, giving Phillip what would have been considered the stink-eye had he been human.

While Ianto couldn’t see Phillip’s face from where he was standing, he could tell just how amused he was by it.  To be honest, Ianto was amused as well.  He couldn’t tell if the Andralan were trying to save face, or if they really believed there was some evidence against Torchwood and Rhys.  They’d gone as far as bring a complaint with the Adjudicator Council, and Ianto didn’t think the Andralan were particularly stupid, just paranoid at the rest of the universe. 

No, this was an attempt to come out looking better than they would have otherwise.  In Ianto’s opinion it was a complete waste of time, and he knew Phillip felt the same.  They just had to see what the Andralan were planning, and then they could react properly.

“It seems that, at the heart of this case, is the actual video filmed during said interrogation,” Chan went on.  “This is the reason we have our two expert witnesses, correct?  In order to interpret this video?”  She brushed her thumb against the screen of the handheld computer she was using.  “Despite the fact that the Emperor himself certified a previous recording interpreted by someone within the Imperial Security Forces?”

An expression of anger crossed Oron’s face, but then it settled into something like scorn.  “How do we know that Torchwood hasn’t tainted it somehow?  It is best to have our own specialist do the translation.”

“You still had to find someone who isn’t Andralan,” Phillip pointed out. 

“Unfortunately yes,” Oron answered grudgingly.  “However, we have thoroughly vetted Dr Morgan and are satisfied that he can be objective, just as we are satisfied that this action will go in our favour.”

Ianto wondered just how deeply the Andralan’s background check on Henry had gone.  In the early days of her tenure at Luna University Rowena hadn’t made it a secret that she was a Star Dragon, but that had been over a millennium ago.  Still, it would have been hard to reconcile a professor having held their chair for so long.  The Andralan had to know that Henry’s mate was a Star Dragon, even if Henry had hidden his own immortality so well.

But would that matter to the Andralan?  So far there was nothing to connect Rhys with the Star Dragons.  Ianto doubted that the Andralan much cared, as long as Henry could translate the recording of Rhys under the mind probe.   But Ianto had to wonder just how their reaction would go when Henry’s translation followed that of the Imperial one. 

It occurred to Ianto that the Andralan could have something up their sleeves.  And, if it had occurred to him, he knew Phillip had to have had the same thought.

“I would like to point out,” Phillip said, “that the person in question only speaks Old Earth English, and this is evident by the questioning.  As we’re all aware, under an interrogation by mind probe the subject literally cannot hide anything; every secret is brought to the surface.  If Mr Williams was, indeed, a spy for the Torchwood Institute, he would not have been able to keep up the cover of speaking a language currently considered dead.  And, why would we send anyone to Andrala without them speaking at least Galactic Standard?”

“These are excellent points,” Chan observed.  “Do you have a rebuttal, Commander?”

“Only that a perfect spy would speak many languages,” Oron answered brusquely.  “And they would also have received anti-interrogation training.”

“Anti-interrogation training in the case of a mind probe,” Phillip rolled on, “is always ‘don’t resist’.  It only causes more pain and damage or even death if a person tries to fight it.  Besides, Torchwood has no reason to spy on the Andralan.  They have nothing we are interested in.”

“Who can know the motivations such an organisation such as Torchwood has?” Oron snarled.  “It could very well be the first steps in an invasion – “

“Commander Oron,” the Senior Adjudicator cut in, “calmness is required in this situation.  You have absolutely no proof of these allegations.”

“Besides,” Alun added, “The Torchwood Institute has never had such an agenda.  The Institute has done far more good for the Human Empire and its affiliates than can be quantified.  They even aided Andrala a century ago when there had been an incursion on your territory.”

“Senior Adjudicator ap Llyn is correct,” Phillip stated.  “The Institute is about helping races, not conquering them.  What would we do with your planet anyway?  The only territories Torchwood claims ownership of is Hubworld itself and various campuses and other institutions in the Empire.  We have no need to take something that doesn’t belong to us in the first place.”

“And this is not the object of this meeting,” Chan cut across the recriminations like a hot knife through butter.  “We are here to determine the truth of the matter concerning Rhys Williams.”  She stared at Oron.  “Commander, if the Torchwood Institute is guilty of what you claim, there will be sanctions.  However, if this is simply a way for Andrala to save face by continuing a claim that has no basis in fact, you can be assured that there will be actions taken in that direction as well.  Gentlebeings, am I understood?”

“Of course, Senior Adjudicator,” Phillip replied.  He nodded in her direction, ceding to her authority over the proceedings.

“Yes,” Oron added.  It was obvious to Ianto that the Andralan was grinding his teeth at being called down by the Adjudicator.

“Then let us begin with the recording,” Chan said.  “Doctor Morgan…Professor Jones…I understand that the scenes from this are disturbing.  If at any time you need to leave…”

“Thank you, Madam Adjudicator,” Henry answered.  “However, I’ve seen many disturbing things in my time and I believe I can handle it for the duration.”

“I agree with my colleague,” Ianto assured.  “I have, in fact, sat in on interrogations under mind probe before, and while I agree it is distasteful we need to get to the bottom of this issue.  A man’s life is going to be determined by the decision made here today.”

That confession gained Ianto a strange look from the Andralan delegation.  He didn’t respond to the glare; let them think what they wanted to.  They didn’t need to know that his own Torchwood had used that self-same version of the mind probe in order to hunt down HYDRA agents posing as innocents.

Of course, Harlana Chan didn’t seem at all surprised by Ianto’s confession.  That just confirmed to the dragon that the Adjudicator knew exactly who he was, which wasn’t a surprise considering the fact that his own son was standing next to her.  Alun would have clued her in the moment the Senior Adjudicator had been chosen for this assignment. 

“Then let us begin.” 

The recording was brutal, but Ianto did his best to ignore the fact that it was a dear friend of his long thought dead being questioned in front of the camera.  Still, even as he translated what Rhys was saying he couldn’t help the anger that bubbled up within him, and it was all he could do not to proclaim the right of vengeance against the Andralan.  As a dragon, he’d declared Rhys a dragon friend, and that meant he’d do anything to protect him even if he’d been officially dead for over three thousand years.  Rhys was family, and he would be damned before the Andralan got their hands on him again.

Still, he understood the need for this.  Rhys had to be declared innocent and under no threat of being taken at any time.  There could be nothing hanging over Rhys’ head once he made it to Hubworld, and then he would be free to do whatever he wanted to do with the rest of his life.  Rhys had to be out from under this before he could start his life anew.

He faithfully translated everything that Rhys was saying under the influence of the mind probe, and kept his fury under control.  Every once in a while, he would glance over at the Andralan delegation as they listened to Henry make the same translation…but something was wrong.

Commander Oron should have been getting angrier at what Henry was revealing.  Instead he looked…pleased.  As if everything was turning out the way he’d planned, that his chosen translator wasn’t punching so many holes in their case that it would drown under the weight of the paranoia surrounding it.

And suddenly, Phillip stood up.  Ianto immediately ceased the translation; across the room Henry did as well, his hologram sparking slightly as he regarded Phillip. 

Hand raised to the comm in his ear, Phillip turned toward the Adjudicators, his back stiff as if it had been strapped to a space-hardened alloy beam.  “I’m sorry to interrupt,” he said, his voice sharp, “but I’ve just received word that there’s been an incident on Dahlnia Prime.”


	16. Chapter 16

 

**_20 June 5119 (Earth Standard Date)_ **

**_Gliese 581g (Hubworld)_ **

 

Ianto’s heart froze.  Not only was Rhys on Dahlnia Prime, but so were four members of his family.  If something had happened to them…

“Does it require your immediate attention, Director?” Chan asked politely.  Beside her, Alun had gone still, his eyes on Phillip.  Ianto knew his son was very aware of their family being on Dahlnia Prime.  Adjudicator Chan must have realised something was going on with her fellow Adjudicator; while she didn’t let her gaze fall from Phillip, it was apparent that part of her attention was on Alun, just from the way she shifted slightly toward him. 

“We demand that the examination and translation continue,” Oron exclaimed.  “There is nothing more serious as this.”

“I beg to differ,” Adjudicator Wrexla said.  “Dahlnia Prime recently suffered a planet-wide disaster, and there are many first responders and volunteers on the ground there.  If there is an issue, it is imperative we discover what that is.”

“The problems of other planets do not concern us,” Oron snapped.  “We insist that the proceedings continue!”

“Well, they certainly concern us,” Phillip growled, doing the best imitation of a dragon Ianto had ever heard coming from a human throat.

“My mate has two sisters, a brother, and a nephew on Dahlnia Prime,” Henry spoke up.  “If something has happened to them, I want to know about it.” He sounded as angry as Phillip had.

“This is a ploy!” Oron accused.  “You are going to lose and this is a pitiful attempt to stop things.”

“No, it’s not,” Ianto answered.  He took a step closer to the Andralan’s holo-images, staring him down.  “I think you know something is up and you’re trying to delay us from finding out.”

It made sense.  He’d seen how the commander had been reacting to the translation, and it hadn’t been at all what Ianto had been expecting.  He’d been…happy.  Pleased.  Something had been happening that no one knew about, and Ianto was willing to bet his scales that it had to do with whatever was going on back on Dahlnia Prime.

And it involved his family, as well as his friend.

“You were going to lose, Commander,” Chan replied.  “Based on what had been translated so far, it’s obvious that Mr Williams is, indeed, a spacio-temporal event and does fall under the jurisdiction of Torchwood.  He is not a spy, and in fact is a victim here.  Any and all claim the Andralan believe they have on him is null and void.”

“Bratsk,” Phillip ordered, “block the Andralan from disconnecting their holographic link to this suite.”

“Yes, sir,” the Zygon answered, touching the stylus to hir pad. 

“This is an outrage!”  Commander Oron shouted.  “We are not the criminals here!  Torchwood is!”

“That is not true,” Wrexla denied.  “According to the agreements signed by the Andralan government when the planet allied with the Human Empire, all such events automatically fall under the umbrella of the Torchwood Institute.  They have proven their case.  You have no claim on Rhys Williams.”

Ianto wished he’d worn his comm into the meeting, but he hadn’t seen the need.  However, what Phillip was apparently hearing over his was dire enough to have pushed his son-by-mating over the edge of calm and into the deep waters of anger.  Ianto could see Phillip actually shaking, and for him to lose his usual carefully maintained façade like that, it had to have been serious.

“We have an incoming transmission from Dahlnia Prime,” Phillip said.  “We’re routing it in here.”

Another of the holo-transmitters flared to life, and Emlyn appeared in the room.  Ianto wished he could go up and hug her; she looked tired, her usually perfect hair bedraggled and her eyes shadowed.  There was a bruise on her cheek, which shocked Ianto, because it took a lot to damage a dragon’s human skin.  Her clothes were a bit torn, and the dragon could swear there was blood on her knuckles.

She bowed.  “I’m sorry to intrude, but I bring news from Dahlnia Prime.  I understand it might also impact your discussions concerning a certain Rhys Williams.”

Adjudicator Chan returned the bow.  “If you would please state your name and planet of origin for the record?” She looked surprised at the reason for the interruption.

As was Ianto, but more because it his daughter there, and not someone official from Dahlnia Prime.  Something was seriously wrong, and it wasn’t just Phillip’s reaction anymore.  Emlyn was there, and what she had to say impacted on their meeting with the Andralan and the Adjudicators.  It also had something to do with Rhys.

This could not be good at all.                                           

“I am Emlyn Jones.  I was born and raised on Earth.”

“Thank you, Ms Jones.  You have something to report that has to do with our discussions?”

“Yes, Madam Adjudicator.”  Emlyn took a deep breath.  “I have recently come into information concerning a Rhys Williams.”

“This is confirmation that Torchwood took him from us!” Oron shouted.

Ianto had come to stand next to Phillip, and could thus see his face.  He looked thunderous as he bit out, “This proves nothing, as this witness does not work for Torchwood.”  Then he grappled with his self-control and said, “Please continue, Ms Jones.”

“Myself and several members of my family are involved in relief efforts on Dahlnia Prime,” Emlyn went on.  “Mister Williams has been helping as well.”

“And just how did he get there, Ms Jones?” Chan asked mildly.

“He was a passenger on the _Shining Star,_ the personal transport of my sister, Morgan Jones,” she answered, her chin up defiantly. 

“ _The_ Morgan Jones?” Wrexla nearly squeaked in excitement.

“Adjudicator,” Chan chided, sounding amused. 

Wrexla cleared his throat, blushing.  “Apologies, Senior Adjudicator.”

Ianto wanted to laugh at that, but stifled it, having the feeling that it might turn slightly hysterical if Emlyn didn’t get to the point.  He just knew something had happened, and he had to know.  His nerves were a mess of horrified anticipation and he had to tuck his hands behind his back to hide their shaking.

“Please, continue,” Chan invited.  

“We have discovered that there has been a bounty put out on Mr Williams by the Andralan,” Emlyn cut directly to the point. 

Ianto stifled his gasp.  Of course.  They should have taken that into consideration and contacted Cadi to keep her ear to the criminal underworld.  They might have been able to get ahead of this, and at least warned Morgan to keep an eye out. 

It was too late now.  Whatever had happened, it was too late.

“And how were you able to ascertain this?” Chan asked, glancing toward the Andralan contingent.  Henry had taken several steps away as if to distance himself from his ‘employers’, even though he was on a completely different planet than the Andralan.  Ianto could see how furious he was as well, but something was taking place outside the transmitter’s range, judging from Henry’s gestures. 

He was telling Rowena.

Of course she would have been nearby.  Ianto was seriously off his game, even though Henry had informed them as soon as the Andralan had contacted him to hire him for the translation.  Rowena would have wanted to be there, to witness what was happening.  Neither one of them might not have known Rhys, but they would have supported Ianto no matter what.

“A bounty hunter found us early this morning, planet time,” Emlyn explained.  “He proceeded to take pot shots at us.  He didn’t actually hit Mr Williams, but…” she swallowed thickly, “but he did injure my nephew, Nathan.  He…used an armour piercer as soon as he realised he was dealing with a Star Dragon.  We managed to capture the bounty hunter, and he is now in the custody of the Dahlnian planetary authorities.  He gave us answers almost immediately.”

Ianto couldn’t breathe.  Nathan…some bastard hurt his grandson.  “Is he…?” he couldn’t speak much beyond that.

But if he was upset, he knew Phillip was worse off.

Yes, Clint and Phillip hadn’t been mated for long, but both Nathan and Nicole thought of Phillip as another parent, and he knew that Phillip loved them as much as if they were his own biological children.  To hear that someone had deliberately injured his son…Ianto would have been on the first ship out even though he hated space travel, because Dahlnia Prime didn’t have a transmat system, even if it would have been usable after what had happened. 

“Gareth managed to get the bullet out,” Emlyn answered, “but it’s going to be touch and go for a bit.”  She let out a partial sob, and then gathered herself back together.  

“Are you certain that it was a bounty offered by the Andralan government that led to your nephew getting injured?” Chan asked, her voice sympathetic.  Her eyes flickered toward Ianto and Phillip, and what she saw there had her going slightly paler than her race usually was.

“Yes, Madam Adjudicator,” Emlyn confirmed.  “The Dahlnian security service is forwarding on a report to you now.  You can confirm it.” She looked over at the Andralan representative, her eyes hard.  If she could have come through the holographic connection, she would have.

And then Phillip spoke, his voice low and thrumming with power.  His personal magic was making itself known, the usual warm blue of his eyes turning into ice.

“I claim the Rite of Vengeance,” he snarled.  “I claim the Rite of Vengeance against the Andralan who ordered this outrage.  They have injured my _son_ , and that cannot stand.” 

The temperature of the holosuite dropped by at least twenty degrees as Phillip’s magic followed the proclamation.  Bratsk shivered slightly, and Ianto felt bad for her.  None of the holograms would be able to feel Phillip’s fury, which was a shame in the Andralan’s case.

“So mote it be,” Ianto murmured, sealing the claim with the magic of the dragons.

The words were echoed by Emlyn, Alun, and Henry; but then other holographic projectors turned on and more of the family made their presences known.  There was Jack, and Ianto knew he had to have been transmitting from their home at Ddraig Llyn.  He was surrounded by their youngest six children, and Samara, Jack’s mother. 

Rowena appeared beside Henry, taking his hand. 

Morgan and Gareth stood beside Emlyn.

Clint flickered into shape, his bow in hand as if he could use it on the Andralan representatives even though he was a hologram.  The fear and rage on his face made Ianto want to take a step back from his own son, but he didn’t.  Nicole was with him, her hands clenched and magical fire dancing around her fists.

Merlin and Arthur joined as well, Merlin’s eyes completely awash with his own personal magic and Arthur had Excalibur in his hand.  Their son, Rory, was cradled in Merlin’s arms, his red and gold scales glimmering even in the unnatural glow of holographic light.  The little dragon hissed, even though he was a bit too young to really understand what was going on.

Cadi was next, her gun raised, and next to her was Brina, looking beautiful and deadly all in black. 

Anwyn and Gwaine standing arm in arm, a united front.

Kaitlyn, severe in her ornate ambassadorial robes.

Pryce, in a suit, the professional mask that she’d learned from her Tad firmly in place.

They were all there to witness.

“So mote it be,” they all said in unison.  

Commander Oron looked spooked, his eyes wide.  His compatriot, Acron, was actually cringing as if he wanted to physically escape the fury that was being aimed in their direction. 

But Oron wasn’t about to back down.  Ianto had to give him some respect for it, even if he was being a complete idiot.

“Who are all these people?” he demanded.  “Director Coulson’s son being involved with the criminal Williams should have automatically disqualified him from these proceedings.”

“These people, as you say,” Chan answered, her own voice almost as frigid as Phillip’s ice magic, “are the Star Dragons, and Director Coulson-Jones is one by mating.”  Ianto would have to thank her for adding their family name to Phillip’s, in order to reinforce his status within their clan, even though Phillip didn’t claim the name for himself despite Jack and Ianto’s letting him know they’d love it if he did.  “He has claimed the Rite of Vengeance against the person or persons who offered the bounty on Mr Williams’ head, which led to the injuring of his son.  As they are their own recognised race with their own laws I am going to accede to their wishes and order that those responsible be turned over to their justice.  You will have them report to the nearest law enforcement agency on Andrala to be extradited at once.”

“We do not acknowledge this unreasonable request,” Oron responded haughtily.  “We demanded that Williams be returned to Andrala for trial, and yet our autonomy was ignored.  We had no choice but to use the resources we had to locate him and bring him back.”

“You will cancel the bounty at once,” Phillip ordered.  “Your case has been denied; you have no right to Rhys Williams.  And you will do as the Senior Adjudicator has ruled, or else you will not like the consequences.”

“You are threatening us?” Oron laughed.  “You can do nothing!  This was nothing but a sham!  Even our so-called consultant is in on the conspiracy to keep what is rightfully ours from us!”

“As I recall,” Henry said acerbically, “ _you_ hired _me_.  I didn’t approach you, and it’s not exactly a secret who my mate is.”

“And Mr Williams does not belong to you,” Chan said, her voice still cold as the frost that was forming on the wooden table.  “You will cease hunting him.  You will leave him alone.  I find in his and in Torchwood’s favour.  You have severely overstepped your bounds on this, Commander.  If I had proof that you knew these proceedings would rule against you and you planned this with that knowledge in mind, I would bring down even worse repercussions upon your planet than are already going to be ordered.

“By Adjudicator ruling, Andrala is hereby commanded to drop every charge you have laid at Rhys Williams’ feet.  They are boundless and without merit.  I rule that Mr Williams, as the victim of a spacio-temporal incident, falls under the jurisdiction of Torchwood, who will make certain he is either returned to his home time or he is settled peacefully here in our current time.  For bringing this fruitless action your planet with be censured and a trade embargo will take place, lasting one Andralan month – “

“That is outrageous!” Oron interrupted, his hand raised if he wanted to strike something but realising that everything but his companion were holograms. 

“No more than your peoples’ actions,” Phillip growled angrily.  Not only had frost formed on the table, but the Director’s black tunic was grey with it.  Ianto hadn’t seen him lose this much control in years, and not caring what anyone thought he rested his hand on the man’s shoulder, attempting to ground him.

“To continue,” Adjudicator Chan said, staving off what could very well have disintegrated into a shouting match, “we order that the person or persons responsible for laying the bounty on Mr Williams’ head to be given over to the Star Dragons for their justice.” She turned to Ianto.  “Professor Jones, I assume you’d also like to have the actual bounty hunter who injured Director Coulson-Jones’ son turned over as well?”

“Yes, Madam Adjudicator,” Ianto answered.  “As patriarch of the Star Dragons, I will be the one to pass judgement on the perpetrators of this outrage.” He looked at Clint, who nodded at the unspoken question, and then at Phillip, who seemed to be slowly drawing his magic back into himself.  His eyes were warming once more, and the frost on the table was diminishing, much to Bratsk’s apparent relief.  However, the horrible chill still saturated Phillip’s clothing and hair; it most likely would for a while, until Phillip regained complete control.

“I agree,” Phillip finally said, after his own glimpse toward his mate.  Clint was still angry, but he seemed worried as well, and Ianto couldn’t blame him.  This wasn’t like Phillip at all, although Ianto could hardly blame him.  Nathan might not have been Phillip’s son by blood, but that didn’t matter.  He loved that young dragon as if he himself had given birth to him.  “I, however, as claimant to the Rite of Vengeance, asked to be allowed to be the one to dispense whatever justice you decide.”

Clint was grinning then, pride shining from his eyes.  Nicole was nodding, her fierceness a match for any of her parents.  Phillip would do everything to protect his family, and that wasn’t more evident than in that moment. 

Ianto smiled at his son-by-mating.  “You don’t even have to ask.”

Phillip took a deep breath, and more of the cold receded.  He met his mate’s eyes.  “Are you near Dahlnia Prime?”

Clint nodded.  “Nicole and I will be there in 34 standard hours.”

“Let me know when you see him?”

“You know it.”  Clint gave a jaunty salute to the rest of the family, and then he and Nicole vanished, the holo-projector above where they’d been standing turning off.

“A recording of these proceedings will be filed with the Adjudicator’s Guild,” Chan went on, “as well as with the Emperor himself.  The embargo will start as soon as ships can be dispatched to the Andralan system.”

“If this goes forward,” Oron spat, “Andrala will declare a state of war between our world and the Empire.”

“And why do I think that makes you happy?” Chan sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers. 

“You signed the Accords with the Empire,” Alun pointed out.  “There are provisions for this sort of punishment in them.  Your government is perfectly within their rights to break the Accords, but you know what this means for your people: it will leave you defenceless if a more powerful race – like the Daleks or the Cybermen – decides to take the opportunity to attack.  You’ll be on your own.” 

“And if you do so choose,” Chan added, “and if we discover that you’ve once again targeted Mr Williams or any other Imperial citizen, it _will_ be war between us.  I seriously doubt your world can afford that, despite how much they seem to want it.”  Her red eyes settled on Phillip.  “Director, if you would release the Andralan holo-signals back to Andralan control?”

Phillip nodded to Bratsk, who touched her pad with her stylus.  The images of Oron and Acron both flickered out, and with that Ianto breathed a small sigh of relief.

One by one, the members of their family left the meeting, and in the end only Ianto, Phillip, Bratsk, and the Adjudicators remained.  “I want to apologise,” Phillip said to Chan and her colleagues.  “I don’t often lose my temper like that – “

“There’s no need to apologise, Director,” Chan answered warmly.  “This is your son; you have every right to get a little irate at the beings that were in some way responsible for him being hurt.”

“I somehow doubt this is last we’ve heard from the Andralan,” Ianto sighed.

“We’ll keep an eye on them, Second Jones,’ Chan said, smiling.  “Or should I continue to call you ‘Professor’?”

“Either is fine, Madam Adjudicator.  I answer to both.” He returned her smile.  Ianto thought he could quite like Harlana Chan, if they ever met in anything other than a professional matter.  He knew Alun thought highly of her, and his son was very discerning.  It made him an excellent Adjudicator.

“Then I officially declare this action closed.  I think I’d quite like to see my own son.”  With those words, both Chan and Wrexla vanished, leaving only Alun. 

“I’m leading a group of Adjudicators and engineers to Dahlnia Prime,” Alun said.  “I’m sure I’ll see you there.” He nodded, and then he, too was gone.

“Bratsk,” Phillip said tiredly as he slumped back into his chair.  “Thank you for taking dictation for this, and I’d like to apologise to you as well – “

“No need, Director,” the Zygon answered.  Bratsk stood, picking up hir pad and stylus.  “However, a cup of coffee wouldn’t go amiss…”

Ianto chuckled, again resting a hand on Phillip’s shoulder, the fabric crackling slightly under his grasp.  He was grinning.  “I think that can be arranged.”

 

 


	17. Chapter 17

 

**_22 June 5119 (Earth Standard Date)_ **

**_Dahlnia Prime_ **

****

Rhys sighed, leaning back in his uncomfortable chair and stretching until his back cracked loudly in the near silence.  It apparently didn’t matter how much the human race – or whatever races they dealt with – evolved, they still couldn’t make a hospital chair that didn’t destroy a person’s spine.  He just hoped his back didn’t go out on him.

The hospital he was in now was one of the largest in the capital city, and it had been where Nathan had been rushed to after he’d been shot.  It was one of the very few buildings that had power, thanks to several solar generators provided by one of the many organisations that had come to the assistance of Dahlnia Prime’s residents.  The generators had all gone to medical facilities and to law enforcement, which made sense, and even the ruling council of the planet hadn’t argued when they hadn’t received one.  Rhys had been impressed, because from his experience the government was always the first to complain and the first to get resources that other, more urgent, groups needed. 

It was hard not to be cynical when it had been a government agency that had tried to kill him, back when the children had been chanting.  That had been several years ago now, and to be honest Rhys did sometimes like to carry a good long grudge, even when those responsible were either dead or in jail.

He tried to relax back in his seat, and his back instantly protested.  Rhys didn’t care; he wasn’t about to leave.  Not yet, anyway.

Not until Nathan had regained consciousness.

After the shooting, Gareth had managed to get the bleeding under control, but it had taken having Nathan moved to a hospital before he would risk removing the bullet.  He hadn’t been about to take a chance with Nathan’s life by having impromptu surgery there on the ramp of the _Shining Star._ Gareth had insisted on sterile conditions, and while he did have a small generator that did create a sterile field, it hadn’t had enough battery power to last the length of the needed surgery. 

It had been Rhys who’d suggested the lorry.  There had been enough of them parked around to borrow one, and they would be large enough to transport Nathan to the nearest hospital without having to change his shape.  While Nathan wasn’t quite the size of a usual dragon, he was still too big to get him into a regular vehicle in order to move him.  It also wouldn’t have been very comfortable for him, and in his condition Gareth wanted to keep him as quiet as possible.

By the time they’d had Nathan loaded up and ready to go, Emlyn had returned, looking somewhat haggard and yet victorious.  She was dragging an insect-like alien with six legs and powerful looking mandibles, and she wasn’t being gentle with him.

Local law enforcement had also been on scene, and they’d gladly taken the alien off her hands, as well as the rifle Emlyn had brought with her.  “I’m going with them,” she’d said, her smile a truly dangerous thing.  It had made Rhys shiver slightly, because he knew just how far Ianto or Jack would have gone to protect them at Torchwood.  Family had to take precedence even over that, and he didn’t even want to think about what Emlyn would do.

It had taken Gareth several hours to extract the armour piercer that had lodged in Nathan’s chest.  Rhys had been curious about that, because he knew there wasn’t much of anything that could penetrate a dragons’ scales, although they did have weak spots where they could be killed.  Rhys had to be glad that the bullet hadn’t hit one of those spots, even if it did get through Nathan’s strong scales.  Gareth had had special instruments that could make the incision needed, and it had been those – plus Gareth’s skill and knowledge – that had saved Nathan’s life.

Eventually, Nathan had been moved to a private room that had been set up in dragon style: large pillows, blankets and cushions on the floor, and the six orderlies had carefully nestled Nathan into them, wary of the single IV line that had somehow been planted in his arm.  Both Rhys and Morgan had shooed Gareth out, so he could rest, and then had taken up vigil with the still unconscious young dragon.

Rhys sighed.  He was well aware that it would be hours yet before Nathan woke up, but he couldn’t help but be concerned.  He’d grown close to Nathan in the short time he’d known him, and he hated to see him lying there, so motionless.  It just wasn’t natural for the young dragon to be so quiet.

Morgan glanced up at him from her position on the floor, curled up on one of the larger pillows that had been provided, a quilt tucked around her shoulders.  “You look exhausted,” she commented.

Rhys glared at her half-heartedly.  “You don’t look so fresh yourself.”  Morgan had dark circles around her eyes, bringing out the inherited Welsh pallor of her cheeks.

She rolled her eyes.  “I don’t need quite as much sleep as you do, though.”

He wasn’t going to argue with her.  It just wasn’t worth it, when he knew she was right.  Rhys had seen both Jack and Ianto go days without sleep and still look like they could go for days more.  “Been a long several days,” he admitted.  “I honestly don’t think I’ve slept all that great since arriving in the future.”

“That’s not surprising. Why don’t you go back to the ship and take a nap?  It’s going to be a while before Nathan wakes up.  You might even have time to grab something to eat.”

“I don’t know.  I…guess I just don’t want to leave.”  He ran a hand through his hair, wincing slightly at the grimy feel of it on his fingers.  He really did need a shower.  “Nathan’s here because of me – “

“You just stop it right there, Rhys Williams!” Morgan wagged a finger at him, her expression fierce.  “This is not your fault.  Unless you wanted to be tossed into the future?”

Rhys was taken aback by the assertion.  “Of course not!”

“Then it’s not your fault.  The Andralan took things way too far, and you should be blaming them instead of yourself.  There’s absolutely no reason for you to feel guilty about what happened.”

“But they were after me…”  It was true; the bounty hunter had pretty much confessed everything, including the price on Rhys’ head.

“Because they’re paranoid bastards who think the entire universe is out to get them, and they keep hoping they’re proved right.”  Morgan shook her head.  “You can’t even consider blaming yourself for their stupidity.”

Maybe she was right.  Rhys hadn’t asked for anything that had happened; he’d been an innocent bystander, being thrown across space and time to land on possibly the worst planet possible.  It was all a huge temporal joke and Rhys had been the punchline.

Still, he couldn’t help but feel somewhat responsible for Nathan laying there, looking so helpless.  The blackness of his scales had gone slightly grey, and the mane of silver hair was limp and tangled.  The white of the bandage on his chest was stark against those scales, several of them showing damage from the bullet and the surgery after.  It would take a long time before they would grow back.  He knew that from spending time with Ianto.

“Here.”

Morgan was holding her hand out to him, and without thinking Rhys reached out.  He thought she was going to hold his hand, but instead she took his wrist and placed something in his palm.

It was one of Nathan’s damaged scales.

Rhys took it, holding it up to the light.  It still held its true colour, but it felt lighter than it should.  There was also something delicate about it, although he knew that dragon scale was one of the toughest materials anywhere.

It took him a couple of seconds to think why…because the only time he’d ever seen a scale not attached to a dragon had been the handful that Ianto had collected from his family after they’d died.  Several of the scales had been damaged by fire, and he’d asked Torchwood’s resident dragon why that was.  Ianto had explained that dragon scales were strong while attached to a living dragon, but once they were removed they lost their magic and could be affected by relatively normal things like fire.  He’d even claimed that Rhiannon, the woman who ran Ianto’s inn for him while he was off with Torchwood, had one on a chain around her neck.  She’d had it for years, and it had been handed down in her family for generations, but it was becoming more and more delicate as time progressed.  Rhys wondered if it had finally given in to the wearing down of the ages and disintegrated, or if was gathering dust in a hoard somewhere.

“He’d want you to have that,” Morgan said. 

Rhys was flattered and amazed.  Dragons just didn’t give their scales away.  There had been a reason Ianto had kept those scales carefully tucked away in a small chest in his hoard room.  Hell, Rhys had only seen them almost by accident.  “I can’t…”

“If this is about blame – “

“It’s not,” he swore.  “I just know how precious these are.  I’m…not worthy, I guess.”

She smiled.  “My friend, you are infinitely worthy.  Whether you know it or not, you’re pretty much a member of our family now.  Nathan’s practically adopted you as an unofficial uncle, after all.”

“He has, hasn’t he?” Rhys felt his own small smile break free.  He genuinely liked the younger dragon; but then, he’d liked every member of Jack and Ianto’s future family that he’d met so far. 

But Nathan was different.  And now Rhys knew he felt the same way.

“Go on,” Morgan urged.  “Get some rest.  I’ll send word if he wakes up, but I do think we should trust Gareth’s diagnosis on it.” She winked.  “He’s usually right…but don’t tell him I said that, he’d just get more insufferable than he is now.”

Rhys laughed.  From what he’d seen, Gareth was just about as down to earth as his Tad.  “Alright,” he sighed, acting put-upon, and stood up.  His back immediately complained again, letting him know all about the hours he’d sat in that damned chair.  “Can I bring you back something?”

“Coffee would be lovely.” She grimaced.  “The stuff they serve here would put you into one of the available hospital beds, it’s just that nasty.”

“I think it’s just because we’re all spoiled for Ianto’s coffee.”

“That is no lie, my friend.” Morgan chuckled.  “Go on, get out of here.”

“Yes ma’am!” He gave her sloppy salute.

Morgan gave him what passed for a really rude gesture in the future.

He shook his head, laughing under his breath as he left the room.  He knew Morgan would let him know if anything changed, yet still he felt bad about leaving.  It wasn’t as if Nathan would wake up alone; that would never happen as long there was one family member on Dahlnia Prime, and Rhys was well aware that every member of the clan was on their way to support the injured Nathan. 

But he really wanted to be there when the young dragon regained consciousness.   It felt like a duty to him, although perhaps he was putting too much on his own shoulders.  Still, Nathan had taken a bullet meant for him, and that gave Rhys a certain responsibility toward him. 

A responsibility he wasn’t about to shirk.

He’d managed to make his way down the corridor and was almost at the lifts when one of them opened, to reveal a man and a young woman, who stepped out before the doors closed.  He was halfway tempted to call out to hold the lift, but it really didn’t matter.  He wasn’t in too much of a hurry.

“Rhys Williams!” the man called out.  He had the largest grin on his face despite the obvious worry that was there, and he strode forward purposefully and dragged Rhys into a hug before he could even react.

Rhys’ shock tried to stop his breathing, but he managed to drag in a breath even as his arms were swinging up to return the embrace.  “Clint?” he nearly squeaked.

The hug went on for an inordinately long time, but Rhys wasn’t about to complain.  This was a friend, one who should have been dead long ago and yet was there, squeezing him to within an inch of his life.

He finally pulled back, getting his first real look at this future Clint Barton…or Jones, as he was now known.  His hair was a bit darker, his face a little younger, and his eyes a different sort of blue, with a bit of green in them, but other than that he would have known him anywhere.  “I don’t believe it,” he snorted, punching Clint lightly in the arm.  “How the hell did your folks not know it was you?”

Clint grinned.  “That is a story I’ll be more than willing to share later.”  His eyes turned soft, as did his smile.  “We _lost_ you, you dumb ass.  Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to go and play around in a space/time Rift?”

That was the moment that solidified everything that Rhys had been considering since he’d arrived in the future; it was confirmation that he never returned back to the twenty-first century.  He’d never thought he’d be going back, but this was just the last nail in the coffin of his past life. 

He laughed.  “As long as you all had a drunken wake to celebrate my life, I’m good.”

“You’re not kidding about that!” The grin returned, even brighter than before.  “Ianto _sang_ for you!  He did a complete set of your favourite songs…although it was mostly Tom Jones.  Honestly, Williams…couldn’t you be just a bit more exciting in your choice of tunes?”

“You are gonna need to share that with me, too.  Even though it’s just a wee bit morbid, finding out about my own bloody wake…”

Clint shook his head, beaming.  “You’re Welsh…aren’t you supposed to be a bit morbid?”

“Oi!  We’re _pragmatic_ , not _morbid_!”

“If you say so.”  He turned slightly, revealing a young woman standing just behind him, who was looking vastly amused.  “This is the other half of my trouble twins, Nicole.  Nicole, this is Rhys Williams, the one causing the current kerfuffle.”

Nicole followed along the lines of the rest of the Harkness-Jones family, with brown hair and pale skin.  However, her eyes were different; they were blue, but they had two pupils, which gave her a faintly stern expression even when she was smiling as she was in that moment.  “Pleased to finally meet you,” she said, sticking out her hand. 

Rhys took it.  The sensation of it had him glancing down, and he noticed the webbing between the fingers.  He met her eyes once more, slightly embarrassed by his staring.  “I’m sorry…”

She laughed.  “No need to be.  Nathan and I both take after our other dad in a lot of ways, and it does surprise some people.  We’ve moved past so many of the prejudices of the past, so that doesn’t mean people are rude when they notice the differences.  And let’s face it…we’re both a bit exotic looking when compared to the rest of our family.”

“Yeah,” Rhys answered.  “Now that I’ve seen Nathan’s dragon form, I can’t wait to see yours!”

Nicole flinched slightly, and Rhys instantly knew he’d said something wrong.  “Nicole doesn’t have a dragon form yet,” Clint explained gently, wrapping his arm around his daughter.  “Nathan’s a bit of an oddity in our family, in more ways than just his appearance.  He was born in his dragon form, while Nicole was born humanoid.  No one’s been able to explain it, especially since I hadn’t gained my own dragon form at the time.”

“I just keep putting my foot into it, don’t I?” Rhys sighed.

“No, it’s okay.”  Nicole put her hand on his arm.  “I can understand.” She huffed a laugh.  “This family is just so freaking bizarre even those who know the truth sometimes make assumptions.  It just means I have to be patient and wait. I’m just a kid in dragon years, so I’ll have lots of practice.”

Clint hugged her with the arm that was around her shoulders.  “Don’t grow up too fast, okay?  Besides, it took me over sixteen hundred years to find my mate.”

Nicole rolled her eyes, and with her strange pupils it was fascinating to watch.  “Yeah, I know, Dad.  Nathan and I kept trying to set you up, hoping you’d quit moping.”

“Hey, you!  I did not mope!”

 “Whatever, Dad.”

Rhys was enjoying the father-daughter sniping, but he knew they were there for someone besides him.  “Nathan’s still sleeping, but Gareth says he’s gonna be fine.”

 Clint’s shoulders slumped.  “Thanks.  When I heard…when it’s your own kid…”

“I know.” Rhys’ own shoulders slumped, but he knew it was for a completely different reason.  “Morgan says it’s not my fault, but…”

“No, Rhys.” Clint clasped his upper arm.  “This isn’t your fault.  It’s the Andralan.  They’re the ones who didn’t do the right thing and it’s led to this.  But don’t worry…there will be justice done.  For both you and Nathan.”

“So, you gonna go and shoot up the Rift then?” It was easier to joke than to be serious in that moment.  Rhys figured that, maybe, he’d really believe it at some point.

Clint looked fondly annoyed.  “Yeah, sure.  It’s still there you know…the Old Cardiff Rift. I’ll just take my bow and put some arrows into the Rift Manipulator, okay?”

“No,” Rhys chuckled, “you’re going to go and see your son, and I’m going back to the ship and get some sleep.”

“You do look like shit, man.”

“You’re such a good friend, Barton… I mean, Jones; sorry.” 

Clint waved off the slip. “Of course I am!  It’s about time you admitted it.”

Rhys almost choked on his laughter.  He hadn’t even known he’d needed the light-heartedness until it was there in front of him.  “Off with you both.”  He shooed them away.  “I need to faceplant into my bed.”

Clint punched him lightly in the shoulder, then gathered Nicole under his other arm once more and led them down the corridor.  “Good night!” came Nicole’s response, and Rhys couldn’t help but feel completely sappy about it.

 

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter after this one! Then I was requested to make up a list of the Harkness-Jones family and I'll post that at the end of this.

 

**_23 June 5119 (Earth Standard Date)_ **

**_Dahlnia Prime_ **

 

He’d gotten back to the _Shining Star_ just in time for everyone else to wake up, and he was greeted by the small group who called the spaceship home, asking about Nathan and how he was doing.  Rhys had dutifully reported what he knew, and then headed toward his cabin, where he’d done exactly what he’d told Clint he was going to do…faceplant into the bunk.

When he woke up, he felt surprisingly refreshed.  Rhys would have bet ancient money that he would have had a hard time sleeping, just from everything that’s happened the last several days.  He could still see all the blood on Nathan’s dark scales, but at least that memory no longer made him ill.

Thank goodness, because despite everyone telling him it wasn’t his fault it was gonna be a while before that sank in.

He took a shower, changed out of the clothes he’d slept in, and then headed toward the observation deck, where he knew there would at least be coffee.  His stomach started complaining the moment the smell of food hit him, which was surprising considering he hadn’t been sure he’d be able to eat after everything that had happened. 

Rhys thought he would be alright…eventually. 

He wasn’t alone on the deck.  Clint was there, as was Emlyn and Morgan. They were standing in front of the coffee machine and with them together like that he could certainly see the family resemblance, despite the fact that Clint still looked enough like the old Clint from Torchwood that he would have recognised him anywhere. 

“Hey, Rhys,” Clint called him over, greeting him with a smile.  It looked a little tired, and Rhys wondered when he’d finally been kicked out of Nathan’s room and told to rest.

“I’d move from in front of the machine if I were you,” Rhys practically growled, making a grabby hand toward the mugs that were sit out on the mini-bar.  He felt like he needed coffee like he needed to breathe.

All three siblings chuckled, taking steps back so the machine was clear.  Rhys muscled his way between them, grabbed the first mug available, and dispensed the coffee as quickly as he could. 

It was hot, and he almost burned his tongue when he took a sip, but it tasted great and did wonders for the cobwebs in his brain despite how well he’d slept.  “What time is it?” he asked.

“Just before breakfast,” Morgan answered.  “You slept the night away.”

Rhys paused, his mug up to his lips, about to take another drink.  He gently lowered it away. “Bloody hell, why didn’t anyone wake me up?”

“You needed it,” Emlyn said.

“And you’re not the only one sleeping in,” Morgan pointed out.  “Not one member of my band has gotten out of bed yet.”

“Has there been any change?” Rhys asked Clint, his coffee suddenly not so appetising.

“No,” his friend replied.  “But Gareth is optimistic that he’ll be waking up sometime today.”

Rhys felt a weight lifting from his chest, a weight that he hadn’t noticed before.  Nathan was going to be fine.  That was the best news he’d had in a while.

“Drink up,” Clint urged, “get some food in you and we’ll all head back up to the hospital.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he agreed.

Rhys really didn’t pay much attention to what he ate, really needing to see with his own eyes that Nathan was going to be fine.  Sure, he trusted what Gareth said, him being a doctor and all, but Rhys suspected he wouldn’t really start getting rid of the guilt he felt until Nathan was healed up and being his normal, irrepressible self.

“I haven’t heard from everyone yet,” Clint said, “but I do know that Henry and Rowena are coming in with several students from the University who’ve volunteered to help.  Phillip and Tad were on Hubworld, and they’re both taking responsibility for the vengeance part of it all, but last time I spoke with Tad he said they were on the way. Anwyn was in the area so she picked them up, as well as Dad who had to get away from the little hellions first.  Of course Phillip wouldn’t stay behind because he wants to be here for Nathan, and to take the bounty hunter into custody personally.”

“Torchwood is taking the bounty hunter?” Rhys asked, even though he wasn’t at all surprised. 

“Oh, right…you weren’t there for the Adjudication,” Emlyn said, grinning.  “I wasn’t there for all of it, but it certainly was exciting.”

“Wait,” Rhys put his fork down, glaring around the table, “is this something I should have been told earlier?”

All three looked slightly guilty.  “Um…maybe?” Clint answered vaguely.

“Goddess,” Morgan muttered.  “Alright…the Andralan called for an Adjudication in order to get you back.”

Rhys guessed that an Adjudication must have been some sort of trial or something.  “And they sent the bounty hunter…why?  I mean, if they thought they were gonna get me back…” He shivered, and it wasn’t anything to do with the temperature inside the observation deck.  The last thing he wanted was to end up back on Andrala…although he would have done it if it had meant Nathan hadn’t been injured…

“That wasn’t it at all, from what I understand,” Emlyn went on.  “The Andralan weren’t going to get you back no matter what, because they didn’t have cause.  The ruling went against them, but they had to try one more thing in order to come out on top…and that was putting a price on your head.  You can imagine how that went down with the Adjudicators.”

“And Phillip.” Clint shuddered.  “I wish I could have been there in person with him.  I was so proud that he claimed vengeance, but at the same time I’ve never seen him so mad that he completely lost control of his magic like that.  There was ice everywhere from what I could tell through the holographic display.”

Things were going over Rhys’ head, and he wasn’t ashamed to admit it.  Going on about magic – which he knew a lot about, including that the Phil Coulson of his time had somehow gotten some from that crazy Norse God who’d killed him and he hadn’t wanted to have a damned thing to do with it – and Adjudication and shit he wasn’t understanding at all…about the only thing he did understand was the vengeance part, because he’d seen Ianto pull the claim of Rite of Vengeance before.

“It’s complicated,” Clint said to whatever expression Rhys had been wearing.  “Don’t worry; you’ll get a full explanation.  In fact, I’m hoping you’ll come back to Hubworld with us when we take Nathan back home.  It’ll be after Phillip gets here, but I’m pretty sure Nathan would feel better if you were with us.” He had a shrewd look in his eye. “And I think you’d feel better coming with us as well.”

Rhys had to agree.  But he wasn’t about to go down without snarking, “And spend all my time in a ship with you lot?  If I’m not crazy now, I will be by the time we get to where we’re going.”

“Trust me, Williams,” Clint chortled, “you’re already crazy.  It’s not about to get worse.”

“But it’s a good kind of crazy!” he defended himself, joining in on the laughter. 

He was starting to feel better, but he knew it was still going to take some time.  But Rhys had faith he would get there.

 

**********

 

Nathan regained consciousness later that day.

Rhys couldn’t help grinning even as he was berating the young man for putting himself in danger. 

“But whoever it was, was using armour piercers!” Nathan exclaimed, his voice gravelly from sleep. “You wouldn’t have survived!”

“Nathan,” Clint said, from his seat on the floor next to his son’s head, “this is his way of showing that he’s glad you’re going to be fine.”

“He has a really funny way of it then!”

That caused a round of laughter, echoing off the walls of Nathan’s room.  It was all family there, with Rhys feeling almost like he was on the outside, watching them all react in the way family did; caring for the one who was injured, while trying not to show that they really felt that way.  It was ingrained in all of them, and Rhys was barely resisting the tug of all those emotions trying to drag him in.  He wasn’t a blood relation, as much as he wanted to be.

But, at the same time, this was the pretty much the same dynamic that the team had had throughout the early years of Torchwood, continuing on even as the Institute had expanded into London.  It had been on the cusp of becoming so much more…and Rhys had missed it all, when the Rift had pulled him forcibly into the future.  He was seeing the result of all that building, the Torchwood Institute now, today.  It was now an organisation that spanned Twelve Galaxies, with outposts on several worlds.  Jack and Ianto had taken Torchwood to the stars, and while Rhys hadn’t been there for all of the beginning he felt he could be proud of what it had become.

He did have to wonder though, if he had a place at this new, improved Torchwood.  Or among these dragons, who were the children of two of his best friends.  Even Clint – who he’d known before all this shit had started – was different now. 

Still, Rhys knew they were telling him he belonged.  That he really did have a home with them, and all he really needed to do was to take a step across the line he’d drawn himself in the imaginary sand of his mind.  He had no real idea what was causing him to hesitate.  All he had to do was hold out his hand, and every person in this room would take it and welcome him in.

He was positive that he wasn’t going home, to the past.  Clint had pretty much made that clear with his comments about missing Rhys.  And even if he hadn’t come right out and said it, the implications of being asked to accompany his family back to Hubworld were clear.  There was no way he was going to turn that offer down. 

Rhys was pulled from his thoughts by six sets of eyes on him. 

“You’re thinking awfully hard,” Clint teased.  “Don’t want to disturb the spider webs that have taken up residence in your head.”

Rhys flipped him off, and everyone in the room laughed.  “Well, apparently that gesture is still in vogue,” he snorted.

“Well, in this family at least,” Emlyn answered.  “Tad is particularly fond of it.”

“Care to share?” Morgan asked.

“Not really,” Rhys admitted. 

“I can make a guess.”  Clint leaned back enough to put his back against Emlyn’s legs, propping him up.  “You’re thinking about home, and how much things have changed, and about just how you fit in.”

“Shit.  Have you been reborn as a mind reader as well as a dragon?” Rhys shook his head.  He knew damned well that his former teammate wasn’t any such thing; Clint Barton had always been that intuitive, even if he hadn’t always believed himself to be.  And, while he hadn’t gotten it all correct, he’d come fucking close.

“Please.” He waved the notion off.  “But it’s pretty obvious that you have a lot on your mind, and it’s not hard to guess what it is.”

Rhys sighed.  He could trust these people, but a part of him wasn’t ready to vomit out all his worries yet, not when Nathan was still laying there, recovering from the wound that Rhys had been at least partially responsible for.

No, he really wanted to speak to Ianto.  While Clint was a good friend, he’d been primarily assigned to London, and then had become SHIELD liaison when Phil Coulson had begun rebuilding.  Ianto, though, had been Rhys’ superior and close friend throughout his time with Torchwood.  Hell, it had been Ianto who had recruited him, and who had trusted him enough to reveal his real self to him, a long time ago on the roof of a Cardiff pub.  That night had been the first step into a larger world, even if it had eventually lost him his fiancée it had turned out all for the best.  He’d been a valued member of a team that was as close as family, and if there was one thing Rhys was going to miss more than anything it was that closeness. 

Nothing was ever going to be the same.  Even if Jack and Ianto were there, the rest of the team were dead and dust except for Clint, who by whoever’s grace had been reborn into a dragon form so many years after he’d passed away. 

But then, maybe being the same was overrated.

Clint was looking at him knowingly, and Rhys rolled his eyes.  “You are a pain in my arse, Clint.”

“So not much has changed, then?” Gareth asked innocently.

That earned the dragon a pillow in the face, while everyone else laughed.

 


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter of this story, but I'm going to post a "Dramatis Personae" list in a second. Next we'll be going back to Series Two; I have all those stories completed and ready to post, all the way through Jack and Ianto's first mating.

 

**_27 June 5119 (Earth Standard Time)_ **

**_Dahlnia Prime_ **

****

Ianto disembarked from the _Serpent’s Tooth,_ flanked by Phillip and Anwyn, with Jack at his side.  Gwaine was still within the ship, getting the engines settled and speaking to Port Authority, getting the volunteers they’d managed to scrape together in the short time they’d had on Hubworld before they’d left arranged and off to whatever jobs they would have in the restoration. 

They’d been lucky that Anwyn and her mate had been so close to Hubworld.  Ianto hated travelling by spaceship at the best of times, but having his own daughter and her ship at their disposal made his nervousness a little less.  Plus, she had a large and comfortable hold, where he could change into a dragon and sleep.  Sometimes he wished he had the ability to sleep well in human form, like his children had somehow gotten. 

“Welcome to Dahlnia Prime,” the Port Master greeted, stepping up and shaking hands.  “Thank you for coming.”

Both Ianto and Jack let Phillip take the lead, his being Director of the Institute. “It wasn’t even a question of helping,” Phillip assured him.  “I just wish we were here under better circumstances.”

The rescue and repair crews that had arrived before them had done a lot of work on the planet.  Power was being restored, and from what Ianto had seen when they’d reached orbit the satellite network that had once covered the entire world was also being replaced with equipment best to handle the sudden change of magnetic flow.

Ianto could feel it against his skin, and he wondered if any of his children had also sensed the change.  It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was strange, like fingers tickling under his dermis, making him itchy and wanting to scratch at himself.  Intellectually he knew it wouldn’t do any good, but it was still a fight to keep his hands at his sides.

“With all the help we’ve been getting,” the Dahlnian answered, “it’s not going to be long at all before the planet is up and running without aid.  How we’re going to thank everyone though…”

“It’s not required,” Phillip said confidently.  “You are a valued ally of the Empire.  It’s our duty to serve. Our people will disembark shortly.  Would you be able to show them where they need to get their instructions from?”

“Absolutely.”

“Thank you.  Also, could you tell us what berth the _Shining Star_ has been assigned to?”

Once they had that information, the four of them headed off, each of them wanting to check in with family, to make certain every one of them was still fine.  Soon enough Phillip would get called away by planetary security about their prisoner, but for now Ianto was certain he would want to find his mate and their family and make sure they were alright.  Even though Phillip had spoken with Clint several times over their trip, Ianto knew that just wasn’t the same.  He felt the same every time he had to be separated from Jack for a long period.

The _Shining Star_ was a large, almost unwieldy looking ship in one of the secured berths near the centre of the port.  They had to pass through two security checkpoints before even getting close, and while Ianto approved of the added security a small part of him couldn’t help but be irritated.  Why couldn’t these measures have been taken before his grandson had been shot while protecting their old friend?

No, he couldn’t think that way.  This world had just gone through a disaster no one could have seen coming, and they’d done the very best they could to make sure things ran as smoothly as possible.  It wasn’t their fault that the Andralan had put a price on Rhys’ head.  They’d had no way of knowing that one of their guests would have been targeted by a bounty hunter.

“Ianto,” Jack murmured as they approached the ship, “are you alright?”

So much for his famed impassive mask that everyone told him he had, but then Jack had had centuries to learn how to read him.  “Just thinking about what had happened here,” he answered as they made their way up to the ramp.  “Permission to come aboard?” he shouted in order to avoid more of his mate’s questioning.

There was silence for a second, and then the unmistakable sounds of running echoed back at them.  “Grandtad!” Nicole’s voice screamed.

Within seconds, the girl was down the ramp and had thrown herself into Ianto’s arms, making the dragon gasp as the breath was driven from his lungs.  “You didn’t tell us you’d be here this soon!” she exclaimed.

“We just arrived,” Ianto laughed, catching his breath as he hugged her tightly.  “Now go and say hello to your Dad and Granddad before they both get jealous that you greeted me first.”

Nicole pulled away, rolling her twin-pupiled eyes.  “Like they have any reason to be like that.”

She hugged Jack tightly, laughing as he tugged a strand of her hair in greeting, and then moved to her other father.  Phillip huffed happily as Nicole draped herself over her third Dad, kissing his cheek.  “Dad’s gonna be so glad to see you! Oh, and Nathan too I suppose.”

“As long as my trip out wasn’t a complete waste of time,” he drawled, tone so dry Ianto was surprised the moisture wasn’t sucked out of the surrounding atmosphere. 

Ianto couldn’t have been happier when both Nathan and Nicole had accepted Phillip so easily as their father’s mate.  He’d been a bit concerned at first, but then he’d heard that both of them had been trying to set Clint up in order to find his mate – with some judicious help from their other biological father, who Clint was still on good terms with – and that had allayed his fears. 

It had also helped that Halam Vir had actually made a special trip to Hubworld in order to personally vet Clint’s choice in mates.  At the time Vir had claimed that Clint had had taste bad enough to hook up with _him_ , and that there was no telling who he’d managed to get involved with _this_ time.

Ianto quite liked Vir.  The dragon was happy that he’d managed to keep up with the twins even while he was out gallivanting around the Twelve Galaxies, doing his own thing.  Vir called what he did _procurement_ , but the dragon had the impression that it was closer to what Cadi did than any sort of official job.

He was also well aware that Phillip had misused Torchwood resources and had run a background check on Vir, even if he didn’t share the results with anyone. 

No matter how Ianto and Jack had attempted to bribe him.  The man was impervious to any sort of bribery, including the family kind.

There had been cake involved, too.  Phillip had managed to remain unmoved by the idea of sweets, which was almost unheard of.

“Come on up,” Nicole invited, taking her Dad’s hand and tugging him up the ramp.  Ianto and Jack traded amused glances and then they and Anwyn followed as the girl went on, “You’re just in time.  Nathan was released from hospital today and we’ve all just got him settled in.  He still can’t shapeshift, and it’s starting to bug him.  You know how he is.”

Ianto did.  Nathan’s dragon form was so completely different from any of the family’s that he was often self-conscious when he couldn’t shift.  It didn’t help that everyone told him he didn’t have anything to be worried about, but beneath his grandson’s breezy exterior he was really quite shy about his dragon form. 

Perhaps one day they’d all be able to get through to him, but for now Ianto would simply keep on accepting Nathan for who he was…his grandson, and a member of their family.  It didn’t matter at all what he looked like.

Besides, personally Ianto thought it was wonderful that not all of them had the ‘traditional’ dragon shape.  It was beautiful to him.

Nicole led them down the main corridor, toward the rear of the ship where Ianto knew Morgan kept the special ‘dragon room’.  Every vessel owned by their family had one, and Ianto was well aware of why…it was officially for his comfort, as he didn’t like sleeping in his human form.  It was a weakness that all of his children and grandchildren didn’t have, and there were times when he was just a wee bit jealous because of it.

She was chattering away at Phillip, who wore an expression of pleased surprise.  It had also been a shock to him when Clint’s children had accepted him so easily, and there were times when Phillip was still bemused by it all.

At the end of the corridor was a set of stairs, and they all went down and through, and into the large chamber that would have been a storage hold but had been transformed into a makeshift dragon’s lair, with all sorts of pillows and blankets, as well as what Morgan kept as her own personal hoard. 

Everyone was gathered there, including several members of Morgan’s band.  In the time Nathan had been touring with them, he’d managed to win every single one of them over. 

He took after his Granddad in that respect, well-endowed with the Harkness charm.

Ianto spotted Rhys immediately.  He couldn’t help the smile that broke out and threatened to dislodge his ears.  His old friend looked tired, but that was only expected after everything he’d gone through.  He wasn’t quite the same as he remembered, but then that was to be expected; his memory was good, but even he could forget things. 

Rhys saw him and Jack as well.  He’d been sitting on a small sofa with Orgala, one of the band members whose skin tone was managing to clash with the yellowish fabric of the cushions, when their eyes met.  Rhys stood, shaking his head as his own smile lit up his face.  “Ianto Jones!” he exclaimed happily, moving to meet him halfway.  “And you had to bring Himself with you!”

“I can’t believe you’re still alive.”  Once Rhys was in range, he grabbed his friend by the shoulder and tugged him into a rough embrace.  Jack didn’t wait for them to finish; he wrapped his arms around both of them tightly, as if afraid to let them go.

It truly was Rhys.  Ianto could sense it, that small bit of magic that had been in his teammate yet had been too deep for him to call upon to use.  That day came back to him: the Rift alarming; Toshiko calling a negative spike; the team mobilising.  They hadn’t even realised it had been Rhys taken until nearly an hour later, when he hadn’t been answering his phone.  Then the discarded bags of food had been found out on Bute Street…

Seeing Rhys there, in the future, in the presence of Ianto’s own family, was like a sudden balm to his soul.  He and Jack had lost so many in the thousands of years they’d been alive, and to get one back…it was a miracle, and for the first time the dragon was grateful for that damned Rift that had spewed so much chaos all over Cardiff.  It had brought his friend back to him, when he should have been long dead.

The embrace lasted a long time, but Ianto didn’t care.  It was Rhys, one of the first people he’d trusted outside Torchwood to see him as he truly was.  He wasn’t at all surprised to notice that his cheeks were damp.  “You are a sight for ancient eyes,” he murmured.

Rhys managed to wriggle out of the paired embrace, and Ianto noticed he was crying as well, although the smile was just as bright.  “You have no idea how relieved I was when I found out I was in the future, because it meant that you and Jack were still here.”  His eyes darted between the two of them, and Ianto couldn’t help but grin happily. 

He didn’t have to look at Jack to know that his expression was just the same as Ianto’s.

There was a faint clearing of a throat, and Rhys laughed.  “Okay, I was glad to hear that Phil and Clint were here, too.” 

The Director of Torchwood was standing there, looking innocent.  “I didn’t say anything.”

“And I call bullshit.”  Rhys hugged him as well, and despite the mortified expression on the man’s face Ianto could tell Phillip was also very glad to see Rhys as well. 

Phillip grasped Rhys’ shoulder and said, “Welcome to the fifty-second century.”

Rhys nodded, acknowledging the greeting.  Then he turned toward Anwyn, who was looking at it all with a suspiciously sappy smile.  “And this must be the Anwyn I keep hearing about.”

Anwyn snorted, although the smile didn’t vanish.  “If it’s from this group,” she waved a hand toward the rest of her family, “then I wouldn’t trust a thing they say.”

“Oh, come on!” Clint called from where he was sitting next to Nathan. 

That brought out the laughter in everyone, Rhys included, who looked as if he wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing there. 

“Rhys,” Ianto said softly as Phillip went to join his mate and their children, accompanied by Anwyn, “you’re more than welcome to be here…you know that, don’t you?”

His friend seemed pensive, but he nodded.  “It’s just…okay, yeah, I do feel a bit of an outsider, but everyone’s been like I’ve always been here and not that I’ve just cropped up days ago like the bad relative who only shows up when they want money or when they’re hiding from the coppers…”

Jack shook his head, smirking.  “Well, if you wanted money you’ve certainly gone to a lot of trouble for it, and if the coppers had been after you I’m not sure Andy would’ve danced at your wake…”

“Bloody hell!” he exclaimed, looking completely gobsmacked.  “And I missed that?  You don’t have pictures, do you?”

“No we do not,” the dragon chided, elbowing his mate in the ribs.  “But it was spectacular.”  His smile turned sad.  “He and Deborah named their first son after you.”

“That poor kid…”

Ianto punched him in the shoulder gently.  “You were missed, you big oaf.”

Rhys actually blushed a little; the tips of his ears turned pink.  “I’m just glad the damned Rift didn’t spit me out in a time where I didn’t know anyone.”

“So am I.”  Ianto rested a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“And I think,” Jack added, “once we get everything finished here, we go home.  How does that sound?”

Under his hand Rhys’ shoulder fell slightly, indicating his relief at what Ianto had just said.  He was surprised by it, but then Rhys had been through so much in the last several days it was only sense that he might not have been so sure of his welcome.  However, knowing his children and grandchildren as he did they would have made certain to let Rhys know that he was family, so this might have just been confirmation to his friend.

“You both still living in that valley of yours?” Rhys asked.

“Of course we are,” Ianto confirmed.  He met Rhys’ eyes squarely, needing to know if he was alright.  Of course they couldn’t go straight back to Ddraig Llyn, because Rhys would have to get checked first by the best medical equipment Torchwood had to offer, but yes…Rhys had a place there, amongst family that he had yet to meet.  “And you have to know that Jack and I want you there.  We have you back, Rhys Williams, and you’re not getting away from us again.”

“Gonna keep me on a leash, then?” Rhys teased, eyes glittering.

Jack opened his mouth to comment on that, but Ianto elbowed him again.  “If that’s what it takes,” he responded lightly.  He couldn’t put into words just how glad he was to see Rhys once more, after not knowing what had happened to him after the Rift event.  To have him back was a blessing, one that he didn’t intend to squander. 

“I always thought I might look good in a collar,” Rhys said, amused.

“I’m sure we can find one around somewhere that will fit you,” Jack managed to say before Ianto could silence him again.

Ianto laughed at Rhys’ horrified expression.  “You are coming home with us, Rhys, and you are going to meet the rest of our family and live the rest of your life the way you want to.  Jack and I and _your_ family are going to prepare you for the fifty-second century and then you have a choice to make.  And, no matter what you decide, you have our complete support.  Is that clear?”

“Yeah, boss.  It’s perfectly clear.”

Ianto couldn’t express how wonderful it felt to hear his old friend call him that, although he was never going to admit it.

Rhys would get through this, of that Ianto was absolutely sure.  His friend was strong, and resilient, and would make an excellent addition to the family. 

“Good,” Ianto said.  “Now, let’s go and see to Nathan, and we’ll see about getting you home.  Home with us.”

 

_Fin_

 

 


	20. Dramatis Personae for the Future Dragon-Verse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the list for the important people in the Dragon-Verse, particularly for the Future-Verse as of this story. Of course this will change as the universe grows.
> 
> **********The up-to-date list can be found in its own listing in the Future-Verse series. I was going to delete this one, but didn't want to lose the comments. :)

Dramatis Personae

Jones Clan

**Ianto Jones** _(19 August 19BCE)_ : Born Draco Brennius Iohannes. The Torchwood Dragon.  Second in Command and Head Archivist of the Torchwood Institute in Perpetuity.  Professor Emeritus of Ancient Earth History (as Ifan Jones). Green Dragon

 **Jack Harkness** _(11 March 5075)_ : Born Jamys Franklinson, on Boeshane Peninsula, Maker’s World.  Director in Perpetuity of the Torchwood Institute.  Immortal through the Time Vortex.  Magically enhanced Human.  Blue-Grey Dragon.

 

 **Anwyn Harkness-Jones** _(30 October 2647)_ : Captain-Owner of the _Serpent’s Tooth_.  Instigator of the name “Star Dragon” to describe the Jones Clan.  Freelance Torchwood Operative. Carried by Jack Harkness.  Mate is Gwaine Jones.  Son is Arthur Pendragon. Sapphire Dragon.

 **Rowena ap Llyn** _(23 September 3246)_ : Professor of History at Luna University; holds Chair of History in Perpetuity.  Twin of Cadi ap Llyn.  Carried by Ianto Jones.  Mate is Henry Morgan.  Aqua Dragon.

 **Cadi ap Llyn** _(23 September 3246)_ : Smuggler and Provocateur.  Wanted in so many systems she’s lost count.  Twin of Rowena ap Llyn. On-again, Off-again Lover of John Hart; no Mate yet. Carried by Ianto Jones. Aqua Dragon.

 **Clint Jones** _(24 February 3460)_ : Born Franklin Harkness-Jones; is reincarnation of Clint Barton, former SHIELD Agent, Torchwood Operative, and Avenger.  Freelance Torchwood operative.  Carried by Jack Harkness.  Mate is Phillip Coulson-Jones.  Father to Nathan and Nicole Jones.  Purple Dragon.

 **Gareth Jones** _(1 July 3599)_ : Medical Doctor and Researcher.  Carried by Ianto Jones.  No Mate yet; Blue-Grey Dragon.

 **Emlyn Jones** _(26 January 4001)_ : Fashion Model and Philanthropist.  Carried by Jack Harkness.  Mate is Aymara Khan.  Silver-Grey Dragon.

 **Morgan Jones** _(5 May 4052)_ : Lead Singer and Songwriter of the group Starshine.  Carried by Jack Harkness.  No Mate yet; no Dragon form.

 **Alun ap Llyn** _(31 August 4092)_ : Senior Adjudicator.  Carried by Ianto Jones.  No Mate yet; Blue Dragon.

 **Sabrina Jones** _(15 September 4415)_ : Covert Torchwood Operative.  Carried by Jack Harkness.  Mate is Belen Swann.  Green Dragon.

 **Kaitlyn Jones** _(5 March 4523)_ : Ambassador of the Human Empire.  Carried by Jack Harkness.  No Mate yet; no Dragon form.   

 **Pryce Harkness-Jones** _(23 December 4612)_ : Entrepreneur.  Owns a chain of Tea Shops and Plantations.  Carried by Jack Harkness.  No Mate yet; no Dragon form.

 **James Harkness-Jones** _(No birthdate known)_ : Orphan Dragon.  Released from Magical Egg on 21 December 5101.  Red Dragon.

 **Oswyn Harkness-Jones** _(No birthdate known)_ : Orphan Dragon.  Released from Magical Egg on 21 December 5101.  Green Dragon.

 **William Harkness-Jones** _(No birthdate known)_ : Orphan Dragon.  Released from Magical Egg on 21 December 5101.  Brown Dragon.

 **Robyn Harkness-Jones** _(No birthdate known)_ : Orphan Dragon.  Released from Magical Egg on 21 December 5101.  Gold Dragon.

 **Lisa Harkness-Jones** _(No birthdate known)_ : Orphan Dragon.  Released from Magical Egg on 21 December 5101.  Black Dragon.

 **Alyce Harkness-Jones** _(1 February 5102)_ : Carried by Jack Harkness.  No Mate yet; no Dragon form.

 **Arthur Pendragon** _(11 January 3258)_ : Born Arthur Harkness-Jones.  Reincarnation of King Arthur, the Once and Future King of Camelot.  Former Director of the Torchwood Institute.  Carried by Anwyn Harkness-Jones.  Mate is Merlin Williams-Song.  Red Dragon.

 **Nathan Jones** _(8 November 5074)_ : Roadie with Morgan Jones’ Tour.  Twin of Nicole Jones.  Carried by Clint Jones.  Biological Father is Halam Vir, from Margath.  Adopted father is Phillip Coulson-Jones.  Born Dragon; resembles Oriental Dragon; Black with silver hair.

 **Nicole Jones** _(8 November 5074)_ : Student of Magic.  Twin of Nathan Jones.  Carried by Clint Jones.  Biological Father is Halam Vir, from Margath.  Adopted father is Phillip Coulson-Jones.  Born human; no Mate yet; no Dragon form.

 **Rory Pendragon-Song** _(31 October 5114)_ : Son of Arthur Pendragon and Merlin Williams-Song.  Carried by Arthur Pendragon.  Red and Gold Dragon.

 

Mates and other Relatives

**Phillip Coulson-Jones** _(8 July 1964)_ : Director of the Torchwood Institute (as Phillip Coulson).  Former Director of SHIELD.  Former Grand Master of Shieldsmen.  Also Known as Phillip Pendragon. Immortal through Magical and Technological means.  Ice Mage (Magic gained from his stabbing by the Mad God, Loki).  Mate of Clint Jones.  Adopted father of Nathan and Nicole Jones.

 **Gwaine Jones** _(Multiple birthdates)_ : Knight of Torchwood.  Reincarnation of the Knight of the Round Table.  Keeps reincarnating (Eion Gwynne, former Torchwood Operative, is also a reincarnation; however, Gwaine does not retain Eion’s memories).  Mate of Anwyn Harkness-Jones.

 **Henry Morgan** _(6 October 1779)_ : Professor of Languages at Luna University.  Former Medical Doctor.  Former Medical Examiner.  Immortal through Magical means.  Resurrects in nearest body of water.  Mate of Rowena ap Llyn.

 **Merlin Williams-Song** _(No Birthdate Known)_ : Former Second in Command of the Torchwood Institute.  Greatest Sorcerer in the Human Empire. Brought back Magic to the Universe.  Reincarnation of the Wizard, Merlin Emrys.  Son of the Doctor and River Song.  Grandson of Amy Pond and Rory Williams. Born in the Time Vortex.  Time Lord.  Mate of Arthur Pendragon (Harkness-Jones).  Father of Rory Pendragon-Song. 

 **Samara Wells** _(21 January 5046)_ : Doctor of Marine Biochemistry and Biology.  Mother of Jamys Franklinson (Jack Harkness) and Herbert Grayson Wells (Gray).  Distant descendant of Helena (H.G.) Wells. 

 **Rhys Williams** _(4 September 1975)_ : Former Logistics Officer, Torchwood Institute.  Taken by the Rift on 11 August 2016 and brought to 10 June 5119.  Former lover of Gwen Cooper, disgraced Torchwood Field Officer. 


End file.
